A Journey Begins
by FLUFF-N-UTTER-1
Summary: Jess and Becker start a journey... (8.7) A/N the conclusion of Jess and Becker's travels from To Have Or Have Not. (JBU)
1. Getting to the Train

**Disclaimer: Primeval does not belong to me, this is fan fiction, not for profit.**

**Any references to people, places, businesses etc is entirely fictitious.**

**A/N: A collaboration with Mijo54.**

8.7-A Journey Begins

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Becker was waiting outside his flat, eagerly watching traffic for any sign of Jess.

The early morning sun was shining gently down between the buildings, highlighting the trees, leaving shadows on the sidewalk. It hardly seemed bright enough for the man to require the big reflective sunglasses that covered his eyes.

Perhaps the sunglasses and shadows impeded his view. Or it might have been simply that Becker wasn't expecting the old, battered yellow mini to pull up to the curb in front of him from the opposite direction, but it startled him. He jumped.

Connor's sister was driving. She leaned out the driver's side window.

"Hi Becker," Beth called "come on around and get in back… your bag can fit too if you squish it."

On the other side of the car, Jess opened the car door. Becker could see her turning in the front passenger seat, her back to Becker as she started to step out into the roadway.

"Jess," called Becker loudly "stay in the car. I'll get in on this side."

"But Hil…," Jess started.

"I don't want you catching cold," Becker replied.

The phrase had its desired effect. Jess stopped. Becker smirked as he watched her slide back into the seat and pull the door shut. They had been dating exclusively for two years, and had developed a code language all their own. She turned to look at him, lips pouting, eyes questioning him. He pointed. Jess turned to look in at the oncoming traffic.

The white panel van that was coming up the roadway in the adjacent lane was in no danger of running into Jess, but as it passed the yellow mini, it splashed through a puddle, spewing streams of gray dirty water down the sides of the battered old car. Wet and dirty… it wouldn't be a good way to start a trip thought Becker. And apparently Jess agreed; she blew him a kiss.

Becker craned his neck to look down at Beth. Connor's little sister was still sitting in the driver's seat oblivious to her surroundings. He glanced briefly into the car's tiny back seat and said, "Park the car…you don't let people get out into traffic…"

Beth turned the engine off. "You sound like me Mum," she grumbled as she stepped out of the small car and onto the sidewalk.

"I sound like the chief of security," replied Becker "and you forgot to pop the boot."

"Didn't forget," objected Beth as she pulled the seat back "maybe you didn't hear me… I said for you and your bag to get in back… the boot is full."

"Just pop the boot," replied Becker "I'll put my travel bag in there… I can make it fit."

Beth rolled her eyes, but bent to pull the lever opening the boot. Becker walked to the rear of the car, lifted the lid and stared.

The boot was stuffed full. Inside were three graduated sizes of Louis Vuitton hard cased luggage, one each in fuchsia pink, turquoise blue and royal purple. There was a coordinated hand tote in lime green. The bright checkered personalized name tags, a concoction of all four colors, identified the pieces as Jessica Marie Parker's luggage.

Becker pushed the boot shut and returned to the front of the car. Beth was standing by the door having watched his inspection of the boot.

"Told you so," she said with a broad grin.

Picking up his black duffle, Becker tilted it sideways and shoved it into the back seat. Climbing in afterwards, he tried to angle his long legs behind Jess and lean further back as Beth pushed the seat back.

Becker looked towards Jess. She was twisted around in the front seat in an impossible position, facing him. Jess smiled. Becker's breath caught in his chest.

"Good morning Jess," he said and then felt foolish… he should have said something… something more personal… more romantic… really, they were going on a vacation together… to France… to her cousin's wedding. But apparently his greeting was just fine. Jess's smile brightened even more.

"Morning Hil," she replied in a soft tone.

As Beth started the car again, Becker asked "Why did you come from this direction?"

She held out a cup of cappuccino towards him. "To start the trip off right," she answered with a chuckle.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Jess and Becker were taking the Eurostar from London to Paris. Beth pulled the car over to a parking area when they arrived at St Pancras International. She pulled the lever opening the boot and hopped out quickly to join Jess at the rear of the car where her friend was already unloading her luggage. Becker pushed the driver's seat up and forward and stretched his long legs. Setting his foot on the pavement, he reached a hand to grasp the roof of the mini and pulled himself out of the tiny car. Rather like getting a sardine out of a can, he thought as he reached a long arm into grab his black duffle. He pushed the car door shut and walked back to join Jess and Beth.

"Let me take that," he said reaching for the largest piece of luggage.

"Oh no," protested Jess "you don't have to carry it… they all have wheels."

"Jess," Becker replied "I've got it."

He watched as she stacked the lime green tote atop the smaller royal purple wheeled case, buckling the straps to hold them together. She then thanked Beth for driving them to the train station and hugged her room mate goodbye, admonishing the younger woman to keep the flat neat. Grabbing the handles of the wheeled pieces of luggage she turned to head into the train station.

Becker followed carrying his black duffle and Jess' largest case… he just wished it had been one of those brown monogrammed pieces like his mother favored, or even the turquoise blue case. He fervently hoped that no one else saw him carrying Jess' fuchsia pink suitcase.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Jess and Becker approached the check in barrier. Jess had already printed their tickets at home, so she scanned hers and started to go through pulling her luggage behind her.

An unctuous little man came towards her, rubbing his hands together and smiling.

"Oh miss," he said "I'll need to charge you for excess luggage."

"What?" asked Jess.

"You're only allowed two pieces, plus one hand carryon," explained the man with a snide little smile. "It's twenty-five pounds for each extra piece… it looks like you've got three pieces there, plus your laptop carryon."

"No," exclaimed Jess "it's just two."

"No," said the man pointing to the buckles holding the green tote atop the purple case, "this counts as two separate pieces."

Becker scanned his ticket and came through the turnstile.

"What's the problem?" he asked as he towered over the smaller man. The man looked at the pink suitcase Becker was carrying.

"Is that your luggage sir?" asked the man.

"Yeah," replied Becker "and so is the green tote my girlfriend is carrying. Do you have a problem with that?"

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Becker didn't take the big reflective sunglasses off until they reached their seats on the Eurostar.

"Oh," gasped Jess, reaching a hand towards the side of his bruised and battered face. His eye was swollen shut, the skin puffy and blue green in color. "Your poor eye!"

"It's not that bad," replied Becker "thanks to you and that ice pack."

Jess stood on her tiptoes and reached her tiny hand behind his neck to pull his head down towards her.

"I'm so glad you're coming with me," she whispered.

Becker started to smile and say something in reply, but the woman was already bringing her lips to his. Whatever response he might have made was lost in the warmth of her touch.

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	2. A Moment in Paris

**Disclaimer: Primeval does not belong to me, this is fan fiction, not for profit.**

**Any references to people, places, businesses etc is entirely fictitious. **

**A/N: A collaboration with Mijo54.**

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Becker didn't realize the train had started at first. Perhaps the Eurostar was that smooth, but more likely it was due to a certain young lady. He found himself somewhat distracted whenever she was around. The conductor interrupted their kiss… tutting about safety and the public health and do please sit down before your fall down. The man almost sounded like Lester.

Jess had taken the window seat so Becker could have a little extra room on the aisle. He started to stretch his long legs out, but other passengers continued to move about the train making it impractical. He straightened up in his seat, bringing his legs directly in front of him. It was a tight squeeze, but he would manage. The travel time to Paris was less than two and a half hours.

"Ooomph," he exclaimed in dismay as the person in front of him began reclining. The seat back banged Becker's knees.

"Hil," asked Jess "what's wrong?"

Becker turned to face Jess and found her rubbing her eyes.

"Are you tired?" he asked in surprise. Jess was normally a morning person and with a cup of cappuccino to drink during the drive in to the train station, Becker would have expected her to be even more awake than normal.

"A little," Jess admitted, covering her mouth as she yawned. "It was late when we left Abby and Connor's last night," she reminded him "and then I had to pack… didn't get to bed until after three this morning."

Becker had taken all of fifteen minutes to stuff his clothing into his travel bag when he returned to his home after dropping Jess off at her flat. He'd been in bed moments later, before midnight.

"All that packing must have tired you out," he said. "Why don't you lean your head over here and try to rest?"

Jess nodded gratefully and moved the armrest up and out of the way. She kicked off her bright blue heels and drew her legs up into the chair. Curling up into a little ball, Jess snuggled her head against Becker's shoulder. She was asleep before Becker's arm came down across her shoulder. And whether it was the soothing scent of her herbal shampoo, or finally stretching his long legs out across the space Jess had so recently vacated, or something totally different, Becker couldn't tell you. In a matter of moments, he too was asleep.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

A short while later the conductor was tutting at them again. Can't have you missing your stop now, the man chided as he shook Becker by the shoulder not occupied by Jess.

Jess and Becker stumbled off the train in Paris Gare Du Nord carrying an assortment of brightly colored luggage and one black duffle bag. A tall thin man, perhaps a year or two older than Becker was standing in the arrivals area.

"Claude," called Jess excitedly, dropping her grip on the luggage handle that she had been pulling, running towards the man.

They hugged each other and started chattering away. Becker couldn't tell what was being said, but he did hear Jess mention his name. Then her cousin was turning to face him, holding out his hand with a broad smile across his face.

The smile faltered for a moment, then Claude asked something staring at Becker. Becker could tell it was a question by the tone of voice the man used, but he had no idea what a voyou might be. Apparently Jess understood the word.

"No," exclaimed Jess indignantly stamping her foot for emphasis. Incomprehensible words were exchanged between the two, then Jess smiled and Claude nodded.

Stepping forward once more, the man greeted him, this time in English "Welcome Hilary."

"It's Becker," he replied "just Becker."

"Oui," said Claude happily "Hilary Becker."

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Outside the station, Claude brought Jess and Becker to an older model Renault Scénic. He lifted the back hatch to the green minivan. Claude and Becker put the luggage in the storage area. When they were done, Jess's cousin slammed the door shut and moved towards the front of the vehicle.

"Wait a minute," started Becker, but Jess put her hand on his arm.

"Claude's going to the airport to pick up my other cousins," she said. "I told him we would like to walk a bit… maybe get some coffee… it should only be an hour or so, he can pick us up on the way back."

A walk with Jessica sounded more interesting than a car ride to the airport thought Becker. Together they waved Claude off.

Jess turned to face Becker. "Which way?" she asked brightly.

"I don't know," replied Becker "I've never been to Paris before… which way do you want to go?"

Jess pointed down the tree lined street. "If I remember correctly," she said "there's a great little café a couple blocks that direction. They make the most awesome chocolate croissants…"

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

It was a good ten degrees warmer in Paris than it had been in London this morning. The warm spring sunshine felt good thought Becker as he watched Jess browsing in yet another of the outdoor display cases in front of the little shop. Their leisurely stroll had been just the thing to stretch tired muscles. Becker had pulled on his reflective sunglasses as they moved down the sidewalk. He felt a little self conscious, thinking people were staring at him or his black eye. Stopping at every interesting shop they saw had caused the short walk to the café to take longer than expected.

He glanced at his watch. It had already been two hours since Claude had left for the airport. Becker and Jess had not yet reached the café. It was only two more doors down the street… Becker could see it… and even more importantly… he could smell the enticing aromas coming from the place.

"Jess," Becker called "your cousins will be arriving shortly… if you want a chocolate croissant, we should probably get going."

Jess looked up at him and smiled. "Oh, no," she replied "we've got plenty of time… Claude texted me… Geneviève's plane still hasn't landed, but he's got Henri and Catherine and their luggage picked up."

Becker remembered the minivan. It had two bucket seats up front, three seats in the middle and another two in the back… where they had loaded the luggage. He hoped the cousins travelled light.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

The bistro table outside the café was set comfortably back from the street. The waiter was used to tourists he told Becker as he explained the menu. The man could speak four languages.

Jess had promptly ordered a chocolat croissant and some chocolat chaud to drink. Becker looked longingly at the menu, but knew they were waiting to eat their main meal with Jess's cousins. He started to just order a cup of coffee.

"Hil," Jess protested "you have to order something… their pastries are great."

He raised his eyebrow. "I have to?" he asked with a smirk.

"Yes," she replied emphatically.

Becker looked at the menu again and pointed at something from the pastry section. The waiter nodded and left.

A short while later, the man returned. He put the hot chocolate and chocolate croissant down in front of Jess. Then he placed a tiny cup of dark black coffee in front of Becker. Next, the waiter set down the éclair. The light brown cylindrical pastry gleamed, a touch of white showing where the filling was oozing out at one end, and a dark chocolate frosting covered the top, dripping down the sides.

Jess's eyes opened wide.

"Oh that's just not fair," she said.

"You told me I had to order something," Becker reminded her with a smile.

"But now I wish…"

"I didn't order it for me," said Becker as he picked up the éclair and held it towards her mouth.

Jess licked her lips. "You'll have to try my croissant," she said.

"No," said Becker as she took a bite of the éclair "I don't."

Becker took a sip of his coffee. It was strong enough to make his eyes blink.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Claude finally arrived. The Renault was jammed full with people and luggage. The cousins poured out of the green vehicle and introductions were made.

Becker recognized Geneviève from the pictures in Jess's flat. She was from Quebec. Geneviève, Jess and the bride to be were all close in age. The other two, Henri and Catherine were from Australia and appeared to be a few years older, but not as old as Claude and Becker.

"Call me Hank," said the big man with a grin "and I hear your name is Hilary."

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Getting everyone back into the Renault turned out to be simpler than Becker would have expected. Nobody was sitting in back. The luggage filled that area completely. Claude was driving, so he had the driver's seat. Geneviève, Hank and his younger sister who insisted on being called Kate, all got into the middle row of seats.

Becker climbed in the front passenger seat. Jess climbed up into his lap, pulling the seatbelt tight across the two of them.

"Jess," said Becker "watch where you're sitting!"

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	3. Leaving Paris Behind

**Disclaimer: Primeval does not belong to me, this is fan fiction, not for profit.**

**Any references to people, places, businesses etc is entirely fictitious.**

**A/N: A collaboration with Mijo54. **

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From the back seat, Becker heard Geneviève say something quickly.

"Avez vous l'intention de faire voyager Jess sur les genoux de Becker jusqu'à grand-mere?"

Claude turned his head left and right checking the traffic. He pulled away from the curb, replying with an emphatic "Non."

Geneviève continued on. Claude responded with a rapid volley of words. The only word that Becker understood was his name. He tightened his grip around Jess.

Whispering in her ear, he asked "What are they saying?"

"Oh, Geneviève is just fussing," replied Jess "I'm sure we can make it to Claude's flat without running into the gendarmes."

"The police? Claude's flat?" asked Becker "Why would Claude be worried about the police? And why are we going to his flat?"

Jess turned to face him, making him bite back a groan as she moved.

"You don't think we're going all the way to Provence sitting like this, do you?" she asked. "We'd be stopped for sure… Claude would get ticketed… maybe lose his license…"

And as Jess babbled on, Becker tried to sit very still.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Claude zigzagged the green minivan through the backstreets of Paris as he travelled from the café to his flat. Becker recognized the Gare du Nord as they passed the train station moving further into the city. They avoided main roads and stayed on the narrow back roads. Soon, Claude was pulling up to a tall building. The main entry was a tall arched set of double doors. Above the ground floor, five floors of long narrow windows flanked by balconies were topped by a slanted roof. Many of the balconies on the lower levels had flower boxes dangling over the balcony railing.

Parking the green minivan, Claude ran into the building. Everyone else climbed out of the Renault. Geneviève and Catherine came up to Jess chattering excitedly in French, while Henri stretched his arms, swinging them back and forth, then overhead. The big man gave a small groan. Becker recognized the symptoms.

"How long was your flight?" Becker asked sympathetically.

"Which one?" asked the big man with a chuckle. "We left Sydney yesterday at the crack of dawn… went to Singapore… missed our connection, wound up on a flight to Amsterdam, and finally made it Paris this afternoon."

Claude came back at that moment, carrying a handful of bungee cords. "Henri, Hilary," called the tall thin man and gesturing to the rear of the minivan.

"It's Becker," corrected Becker as he walked towards the rear of the minivan "I don't usually go by Hilary."

The big Australian chuckled. He clapped his hand on Becker's shoulder. "It's a lost cause mate," he said. "I'm Hank at home in Australia, but when I'm here… I'm Henri."

The three men started hauling the bigger pieces of luggage out of the rear of the minivan. Becker and Hank positioned the luggage atop the roof of the Renault, while Claude supervised the bindings. Soon, enough of the luggage was strapped to the roof of the minivan that the rearmost seat could be lifted up. Becker looked at the seat and the remaining luggage piled beside the tiny seat. There wasn't much room.

Jess came up beside him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "I'll sit here," she said "you sit up front… you've got longer legs."

"No Jess," Becker protested "I'll be fine back here."

Hank was eyeing the seats with a contemplative look. "You know," he suggested "if Jess was willing to sit in the middle row with Geneviève and Catherine, we could move the middle seats forward."

Jess turned to look at her older cousin, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. "And where would you be sitting?" she asked pointedly.

The big man held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Hey, I'm just trying to help," he said "If you want to sit in the front with Becker in the back or the other way around, that's fine with me."

Jess and Becker exchanged a glance.

"But," continued Hank "if you want to sit in the middle, with Becker in the back and me up front… well the two of us both get more leg room and you get to be close enough to talk to him."

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

It was late in the afternoon when they finally got on the highway south. Between airplane delays, the stop at Claude's flat and another stop at Pomme de Pain where they had picked up sandwiches and drinks for the car ride, the group was leaving Paris far later than they had originally planned.

Becker looked out the minivan's rear window at the city sprawling behind them. The traffic was as just as bad as London's he thought. The cars were just travelling on the opposite side of the road from what he expected.

He felt a small hand reach over the back of the seat. The hand touched his ear first, then moved upward. Fingers ruffled through his hair.

"Hey," he said "quit messing with the hair." He turned sideways in his seat, twisting to face forward. Jess was turned sideway in her chair also. Beside her Geneviève and Catherine were leaning against each other and appeared to be dozing. He reached a hand up to touch hers, his fingers clasped hers.

"Are you warm enough?" asked Jess. Becker smiled.

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	4. A Bump In The Night

**Disclaimer: Primeval does not belong to me, this is fan fiction, not for profit.**

**Any references to people, places, businesses etc is entirely fictitious.**

**A/N: A collaboration with Mijo54. **

8.7- A Bump In The Night

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They were south of Lyon when something hit the bottom of the Renault with a loud thump. The green minivan shuddered. Claude gripped the steering wheel tightly, trying to force the vehicle to stay in its traffic lane.

"What was that?" asked Becker.

Jess and her cousins had been awakened by the noise and the erratic motion of the minivan. From the front passenger seat, Hank was bending down, pulling something out from under his chair. It looked like a vest, thought Becker. It was rather odd; a glow in the dark type vest.

"What made that noise?" asked Jess anxiously.

The hazard lights started blinking, flashing double lights. Claude pulled over into the breakdown lane, pulling the car completely off the road. Becker heard Claude muttering. The engine turned off. Hank handed his older cousin the vest and Claude slipped his arms through as he opened the front door of the minivan. Straightening up for a moment, he adjusted the vest.

At that moment, another car passed them on the motorway at a high rate of speed. The second car's headlights flashed on Claude's fluorescent vest as they roared on down the road. A horn blared loudly as the car flew past Claude. The tall thin man glared at the passing car and said something rude about speeders, shaking his fist in their general direction.

Becker tried to open the tailgate to get out, but it wouldn't lift up. Hank, who had stepped out from the passenger side, came around to the rear of the minivan. He opened the back letting Becker out.

From the front of the vehicle, Claude was shouting "Rentrez, rentrez." He motioned with his hands as if to sweep Becker and Hank back inside the Renault. Claude continued talking.

"Hil," called Jess "Get back inside please, you don't have one of those reflective vests… it's not safe."

"But I need to see what hit underneath the minivan," protested Becker.

Claude straightened up from where he had been looking underneath the front of the Renault. He said something else that Becker didn't understand.

"You can check it at the next rest area," replied Jess.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

At the rest area, everyone got out of the car. Claude lifted the hood up on the engine compartment. There were shredded chunks of stiff blue plastic visible on top of the battery and wedged in the spaces between engine parts.

"Qu'est-ce?" asked Geneviève.

Becker echoed her "What is it?"

Claude was shaking his head and muttering something under his breath.

"I think it's a bin," Jess whispered to Becker "or what used to be a bin."

"You're probably right," he agreed.

Claude had already started to pull the offensive material out of the engine compartment. Hank joined him from the other side. He grunted with the effort.

"Ugh! This piece is really wedged in there," Hank exclaimed.

Becker knelt down on the pavement near the front of the car. The large blue strip of plastic was dangling down below the engine, almost touching the ground.

"Maybe I can pull it down," suggested Becker as he reached underneath the Renault. "You push."

Some time later, the three men decided that they had removed as much of the blue plastic as they could possibly get. Claude and Hank's hands and forearms were dirty, streaked with oil and grime. But Becker, who had ultimately lain down and crawled under the car, was by far the messiest.

"Go," shooed Jess, pointing the men towards the restroom facilities. "Wash up before you get in the car." Behind her, Geneviève and Catherine nodded in agreement.

The men rolled their eyes, but headed for the restroom. When they got there, there was no hot water, and the soap dispenser was empty.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

The engine turned on and ran, somewhat noisily, but it ran. Claude gave a small grin as he put the hood down. Geneviève had called her parents, who were already at Grand-mere's, to let them know the group arriving from Paris was going to be arriving later than expected.

Between departing late, traffic and now this… it would be well after midnight before they arrived at the little village nestled in the hills between the Route de Muy and the Route des Arcs.

"The Route des Arcs?" asked Becker looking at Jess with a grin.

"It's not the same," she protested, chuckling "not at all."

"Some people don't believe in coincidences," Becker replied as he helped Jess into her seat.

Hank was watching the pair. "Do you want to sit up front?" he asked.

Becker looked at Jess. "No," he replied "I'm fine back here."

"Well then get in," ordered Hank "so I can push the tailgate down."

At the front of the Renault, Geneviève and Claude appeared to be discussing something. Claude was shaking his head again, but Geneviève appeared to disagree. She held out her hand. He shrugged and handed her the keys. Claude climbed in the back seat with Jess and Catherine. He yawned, and before Geneviève had even pulled out on the highway, he was asleep.

Becker whispered to Jess. "Can she drive in France?"

"Of course she can," replied Jess with "She's got dual nationality, French and Canadian, she and I both learned to drive at Grand-mere's."

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Sometime after they passed Marseille, Geneviève pulled the car over at another rest area. It was overheating. After a bit of a wait, Claude deemed it okay to drive again, but he insisted on driving.

They stopped at every rest area from Marseille to the turn off just before Le Muy.

The sun was starting to come up as Claude turned the Renault off the smaller secondary highway onto a tree lined country road. The stately white trunks soared above the road, the leaf lined branches meeting in midair, creating a living archway.

"Plane trees?" said Becker in surprise.

"They're not just in England you know," replied Jess as she stretched her arms out. She ran her hand through his dark hair.

"Hey now," Becker protested mildly "I'm trying to make a good impression when I meet your grandmother… won't do to have my hair a mess." He pulled a small black plastic comb from out of his pocket and started to straighten his hair. The comb snapped in half. He looked at the broken pieces in dismay.

Jess looked at him appraisingly. The black eye and bruising on his face gave him a decidedly rakish air. The black denim and button down shirt that had looked so smart when they started their trip yesterday morning was now rumpled and stained from the same grease and grime that streaked his hands and forearms. He didn't appear to be his usual impeccable self. She chuckled.

"Grand-mere will love you," she said reassuringly.

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	5. Arrival at Grand-Mère's Home

**Disclaimer: Primeval does not belong to me, this is fan fiction, not for profit.**

**Any references to people, places, businesses etc is entirely fictitious.**

**A/N: A collaboration with Mijo54. **

8.7- Arrival at Grand-Mère's Home

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The tree lined country road twisted and turned through gently rolling hills as they continued driving into the Provencal countryside. Becker looked at the fields beyond the plane trees. Short gnarled trees were planted in rows, and appeared to go on as far as he could see.

"What kind of trees are those?" asked Becker curiously.

"Olive trees," replied Jess. "When we get closer to Grand-Mère's you will see the vineyard and the peach trees too."

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Becker felt every bounce as the Renault jolted through the country side. About an hour later, their destination became visible. Grand-Mère's home was a large stone house with long narrow windows. Claude turned the Renault into the circular driveway and pulled up next to an ancient light blue Citroen. On the other side of the Citroen, Becker could see a newer model silver sedan. From the distance, Becker thought the sedan looked like a Peugot.

"What kind of car is that?" asked Becker, nodding at the Citroen.

"That's what I learned to drive on," said Jess fondly "the Citroen Ami 6 Break."

Claude parked. "Nous sommes ici," he said as he turned off the engine.

Everyone started opening doors and climbing out of the minivan. Becker tried to be patient, while Hank walked slowly and stiffly toward the rear compartment of the Renault. Hank released the rear hatch and Becker climbed out stretching his arms high over his head.

He sighed in relief. It felt so good to be out of that car. Then, Claude called "Henri, Hilary," and gestured to the roof of the minivan. The men started unloading the luggage from the rooftop.

Geneviève grabbed her bright blue wheeled suitcase as Becker set it down and started pulling it towards the house. Hank handed Kate her magenta wheeled case, while she reached inside the back of the Renault for the matching tote bag. Hank then reached up again for his dark brown case. Then brother and sister followed after Geneviève.

Meanwhile, Becker set Jess's huge pink case down between the two of them and reached up again for her turquoise blue case. She leaned into the back of the minivan, grabbing her royal purple wheeled case and the bright lime green tote. Becker glanced past her at the Citroen, noting the older style bench seats and the fold down seat in the rear luggage compartment. A forerunner of the minivan he thought.

"That car has to be at least forty years old," he remarked.

Jess replied "Fifty I think. Grand-Mère said it was the last thing she and Grand-Père agreed on and she wasn't getting rid of it."

Becker chuckled as he grabbed his black duffle bag from the roof. The zipper was loosened, gaping open several inches. He took a moment to zip it shut again, then he a picked up Jess's heavy pink suitcase. Together, he and Jess joined Claude as they walked towards the house.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

The front doorway opened. A petite older woman with pure white hair cut in a classic short style came out into the early morning sun. She was followed by a couple that appeared to be in their early sixties.

"Grand-Mère," called Geneviève excitedly. Geneviève was hugged tightly by the older woman. Then Geneviève released her and stepped towards the couple. More hugs and chatter ensued as the young woman greeted her parents. Her father was Grand-Mère's only son, a man with dark hair starting to gray. Geneviève must get her dark hair from her father's side of the family thought Becker. Her mother had dark blonde hair pulled back in a chignon.

Grand-Mère had continued walking forward. She grasped first Catherine and then Henri at arms length, as if inspecting them for any signs of change since she had last seen them. From what Jess had told him, Becker knew it had been at least five years since the siblings from Australia had been to France. Grand-Mère's second daughter had met a charming young man from Australia many years ago at a French cooking school. The two, Zoè and Charles, had married and returned to his native land. They now ran a restaurant... the Cafe de Artistes. Due to work and budgetary constraints, their parents had stayed in Australia.

A beautiful young woman with auburn hair and dark eyes, who was obviously pregnant, came out of the door closely followed by a little boy.

"Papa!" exclaimed the child as he set off running. Claude gave a broad grin as he knelt down to scoop the boy into his arms. Claude kissed the boy and settled the child on his left hip. Then stepping forward the tall, thin man wrapped his other long arm around the auburn haired woman, pulling her close, bending his head down to her upturned face, giving her a long, lingering kiss.

Another young woman came out of the house, followed closely by another couple. Becker did a double take.

"I thought you said your parent's weren't getting here until Friday," he whispered to Jess, setting down the luggage he was carrying. "What's your mother doing here?"

"That's not Mum," replied Jess "that's my Aunt Marianne. They're twins."

Becker had only met Jess's parents once. Margaux and George Parker had met them for dinner about a year ago. They had been briefly visiting back in London before George was reassigned to the embassy in Brussels.

One of those brilliant administrators who worked behind the scenes in the United Kingdom's foreign offices, George Parker had met Margaux in Paris over thirty years ago. They had married and travelled from one embassy to another ever since. Their eldest daughter, Marjorie had been born in Paris. Their second daughter, Alexandra was born in Vienna. Third daughter Evelyn was born in Lyon, while Jessica was the only one of their children to have actually been born in England. Over the past two years, Becker had met each of Jess's sisters, and the older two's husbands and children, on various occasions, but he had never met them all at the same time.

With so many people coming for the wedding, Becker was really hoping that he could keep all their names straight. At that moment Becker's thoughts were interrupted by a high pitched squeal. The blonde haired young woman standing with the woman who looked so much like Jess's mother had made that irritating noise. She ran forward and wrapped her arms around Jess hugging her tightly.

Jess turned to Becker as the blonde released her. Smiling, Jess introduced her cousin, "Hil, this is Sophie," she said "Sophie this is Hilary Becker."

Sophie looked up at Becker, her blue eyes sparkling as she held out her hand. "Ravi de vous rencontrer Hilary," she said.

Becker stared. Except for the blue eyes and blonde hair, Sophie was almost a carbon copy of Jessica. The cousins looked more alike than Jessica and her sisters.

He had a brief moment to shake Sophie's hand before Jess was introducing him to everyone else.

Sophie's parents… Marianne and Simon. Claude's wife Aimèe and son Paul. Geneviève's parents… Edouard and Moniquè. Grand-Mère.

Jess dragged Becker forward to stand directly in front of her grandmother.

"Grand-Mère," said Jess proudly, "J'aimerais vous présenter mon petit ami, Hilary Becker."

The tiny woman narrowed her eyes. Her gaze travelled from Becker's feet up across his rumpled and dirty clothing, lingering on the grease streaking his arms, finally coming to a stop as she focused on his black eye.

"Ce voyou est votre petit ami?" asked Grand-Mère in disbelief.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

_A/N - translation: End of chapter 5 - Jess introduces Becker to her grandmother... Grandmother, I want to introduce you to my boyfriend, Hilary Becker. Grandmother's reply after looking Becker up and down... "This rogue is your boyfriend?_


	6. We'll See

**Disclaimer: Primeval does not belong to me, this is fan fiction, not for profit.**

**Any references to people, places, businesses etc is entirely fictitious.**

**A/N: A collaboration with Mijo54. **

8.7- We'll See

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

There had been a moment's stunned silence from Jess, then an emphatic "Yes!"

That was quickly followed by a flustered "No, I mean, he's not a rogue… Grand-Mère... oui, c'est mon petit ami et non, il n'est pas un voyou!"

A slow smile spread across Grand-Mère's face as she looked at her favorite granddaughter.

"Nous verrons," was all the woman said as she turned her back to Becker and headed back into the house.

Becker looked at Jess. Somehow, he didn't think that had gone as well as he had hoped. He picked up the luggage again and followed Jess inside.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Inside the home, there was much chatter and people started carrying luggage up the stairs.

Becker turned to Jess. "Where's our room?" he asked. She was listening to her grandmother as the older woman continued talking, a small frown starting across her face.

"No," she started. Becker put a hand out to her arm.

"What is it?" he asked. She turned to face him.

"The house looks big, but it isn't, not really," she said "There aren't that many bedrooms."

Becker wasn't quite sure where this was going.

"Grand-Mère has put Geneviève's parents in one bedroom, Claude and his family in another," Jess babbled on, "Sophie's parents live in the village. They have room enough for my parents when they arrive on Friday. Louise and Benoít won't be here until tomorrow…"

"Who?"

"Claude's sister and brother," Jess explained. "His parents, my Aunt Veronique and Uncle Gaston will be arriving tonight… they're staying in the other bedroom here…"

Realization was starting to come to Becker. "Where are we staying?"

Jess looked up at him. "Grand-Mère wants all the single women to stay in the big room at the end of the front hall. She wants you and Hank to stay together in the room at the back end of the north hall. Benoít will join you tomorrow," she said. She stopped speaking, out of breath.

"We can check in the village for a hotel…"

"No Jess," said Becker. "You need to be here with Sophie, Catherine and Geneviève to get ready for the wedding on Saturday… I'll be glad to share a room with Hank and Benoít."

It wasn't exactly what he had been expecting, but he would manage. Becker started carrying luggage up the steep flight of stairs.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Becker set Jess's baggage in the spacious bedroom at the far right front of the house. The door from the hallway was centered on the room which spanned the length of this section of the building. To his right, tall, narrow windows on the front wall faced south. From there Becker could see the cars parked in the driveway below. Directly in front of him, a closet ran the length of the eastern wall. To his left, the wall to the rear of the home had no windows. Becker looked at the wall in puzzlement. Based on the size of the room, that had to be an exterior wall also. Jess caught the expression on his face.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Why are there no windows on this wall?" asked Becker.

"Have you never heard of the Mistral?" asked Catherine. She shivered.

"The wind from the north is really cold," added Jess.

Hank called from the far end of the front hallway. "Hilary," he said pointing north "our room's this way."

Becker was very glad it was June. Conscious of watching eyes, he brushed his lips lightly across Jess's mouth, and turned to leave the bedroom. After their long drive, they were going to spend the morning unpacking, washing up and Becker hoped… having a lie in. Grand-Mère had imperiously informed them all that they were all expected for dinner promptly at 13:30, in the courtyard.

He walked the width of the L shaped building turning at the hallway following the direction that Hank had gone. The last room at the end of this narrower portion of the building had two narrow twin beds and an old bureau. As he sat his duffle on the bed not occupied by Hank, Becker wondered where Benoít was going to be sleeping.

"I've got next dibs on the shower," Hank informed him. Becker thought he looked quite comfortable sprawled across the other bed. He added, "I'm after Claude."

Becker unzipped his black duffle. He figured he could at least take out some clean clothes to hang up while he waited a turn for the lavatory facilities. He reached into the bag.

"Uh oh," Becker said.

Hank looked at him quizzically. "Uh oh?" the big man asked.

"The zipper came undone last night," Becker explained "it looks like I may have lost some clothes during our drive…"

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

After Hank had returned from his shower, Becker took his turn.

Tomorrow he would have to go shopping. The loss wasn't that bad he kept telling himself. He had insurance. Becker needed some new shirts anyway, and something suitable to wear to the wedding on Saturday. He still had two pairs of black jeans and socks… lots of socks. He could rotate clothing. Surely there was a washing machine somewhere in this house.

Becker stood in the shower, scrubbing at the stubborn grease on his forearms. The hot water suddenly cooled, leaving him with goose bumps as he hurriedly turned off the taps and grabbed his towel.

Although Hank and Becker were nearly the same height, Becker was a slimmer build. Becker appreciated the big man loaning him a clean shirt for today, but he really wished the voluminous button down shirt wasn't yellow. He quickly finished dressing and returned to the bedroom. A couple hours of sleep before the midday meal and he would feel much better.

As he opened the door to the tiny room, he heard the distinct sound of Hank snoring.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Hank was shaking Becker.

"Come on now," the big man urged with a grin. "You don't want to make Grand-Mère angry by being late to dinner.

Becker jumped up. No, he certainly didn't want to make Grand-Mère angry. And, his stomach was rumbling.

Jess met Becker in the courtyard. She pinched the yellow cloth of the shirt he was wearing and raised her eyebrow in a questioning look.

"Later," Becker whispered as he pulled her even closer, bending his neck, seeking the warmth of her mouth.

Jess put her hand on his chest, stopping his movement. "Later," she whispered.

Hank hurried past the pair, heading towards the long, narrow table set in the center of the courtyard. The table and chairs were sitting on squares of grayish blue slate. The entire dining area was shaded by an elegant awning of wide green stripes intermingled with narrow purple and white stripes. A few people were already milling about the table, while other family members were coming into the courtyard.

The L shaped home sheltered the area from wind, keeping it warm and sunny. Surrounding the dining area was a garden. Jess grasped Becker's hand, interlacing her fingers with his. Guiding him around the garden, from one neatly planted bed to another, she identified the herbs and flowers. Becker recognized the rosemary, garlic, and lavender from the potted plants that Jess kept in her London flat, but most of the other plants were just a blur of green.

Waving at the last long rectangular bed that spanned the width of the courtyard, Jess said "That's the kitchen garden, where most of our vegetables come from."

A sharp call from the tiny woman sitting at the head of the table caused the pair to turn and look back at the dining area.

"Oops," whispered Jess. They hurried to sit down.

Jess sat opposite Sophie, next to Grand-Mère. The only other empty chair was further down the table next to a distinguished looking older man. Even seated, the he appeared taller than most of the people at the table. Only Claude appeared to be anywhere near the older man's height. Becker knew he had been introduced to a number of people when they first arrived, but he didn't remember seeing this man.

The man gave Becker a conspiratorial grin and pulled the chair out a bit. Becker sat down and tried to ignore the angry looks from Grand-Mère.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

_A/N translation: End of chapter 5 - Jess introduces Becker to her grandmother... Grandmother, I want to introduce you to my boyfriend, Hilary Becker. Grandmother's reply after looking Becker up and down... "This rogue is your boyfriend?_

Beginning of chapter 6 - Jess "yes, he's my boyfriend and no he is not a rogue."  
Grandmother "We'll see."


	7. Grand-Père

**Disclaimer: Primeval does not belong to me, this is fan fiction, not for profit.**

**Any references to people, places, businesses etc is entirely fictitious.**

**A/N: A collaboration with Mijo54. **

8.7- Grand-Père

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

That had to be the best meal Becker had ever eaten… no offence to his Mother's cooking, but really… salade nicoise and rosemary roast chicken, complemented by seasonal vegetables and hard crusty baguettes. The pink wine from Grand-Mère vineyards was far better than the Chateau-neuf-du Pape that he had tried in London once before, thinking it was typical of the region.

Becker leaned back in his chair. A small hand caressed his shoulder. He looked up. Jess was standing beside him, smiling.

"I see you've met Grand-Père," she said.

Becker looked at the older gentleman at the end of the table. "Your Grandfather?" he asked in surprise.

The older man smiled and raised one eyebrow, looking a Becker curiously.

"Not exactly," added Becker.

Although they had sat next to each other, they hadn't really talked much. Becker had spent more time talking to little Paul who sat on his other side. The boys parents were across the table from the two of them watching the attempt at communication in some amusement. The child seemed to think Becker's lack of language skills was something he could remedy. The boy had endless patience pointing to objects and naming them, listening to Becker repeat the words.

"I learned some new words," Becker told Jess. Holding up his eating utensils, he said "Fourchette, couteau, cuillère."

Grand-Père leaned forward then, looking earnestly at Becker. "I'd advise you not to try that again," he said solemnly, "your accent is atrocious."

Becker looked at the man in surprise. Throughout the entire dinner the elderly man hadn't said anything to Becker… in any language. The man had quietly sat through the meal, watching everyone, hardly eating anything himself.

"You speak English?" asked Becker.

"Of course," replied Grand-Père. The man slowly rose from his chair, making a gesture with his hand. "Come, this way."

Jess looked from her grandfather to Becker for a brief moment, her eyes wide. Then she pulled Becker by the wrist. Together the two of them followed Grand-Père out of the garden and down a narrow gravel path.

"Where are we going?" Becker whispered to Jess.

"I think…," she said sounding slightly awestruck, then as the older man turned towards a large building that might once have been a barn, she squealed. "Oh yes! He's taking us to his studio."

"His studio?" Becker repeated questioningly.

"Yes," said Jess excitedly, skipping in her eagerness to catch up with her grandfather "the last time I got to go inside his studio was when Sophie and I were eight… we knocked over some easels and paint cans… I thought he'd never let us in again… but then Sophie was telling me he let her back inside last year..."

"So your grandfather is an artist," said Becker slowly as she babbled on.

Jess stopped. She tilted her head to look at Becker. "Hil, I've told you about my grandfather," she reminded him.

Becker thought he remembered. The man seemed to travel all over the world from what Jess had said… wasn't that what she had told him? He looked at her in confusion.

"I'm not sure if I remember it right," he mumbled as they reached the open door to the studio. They stepped inside. Becker stared. The interior of the reconverted barn was full… a conglomeration of canvas and paints, easels and brushes, and so much more.

"I know I've told you about Grand-Père," replied Jess "He's Paul-Henri."

Becker remembered the name of the French artist, but Becker hadn't quite associated that artist with Jess's stories of the grandfather that travelled so much.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

They had been in the studio for perhaps an hour, when Grand-Mère arrived.

Jess and her grandfather had been talking animatedly about one of the larger paintings near the front window, while Becker was moving around the studio. He was careful not to knock anything over, and Becker was enjoying looking at all the different paintings. But most of all, he was enjoying looking at the objects that weren't paintings. They weren't exactly statues in the traditional sense of the word either. Jess's grandfather had a sculpture style all his own, creating three dimensional art forms… multimedia, Becker thought was the word Jess had used.

From where he was standing, Becker could hear Grand-Mère speak. The tiny intimidating woman said something in a sharp tone of voice. Becker couldn't distinguish the words, but he saw Jess flush.

"Come on Hil," called Jess, "Let's go for a walk."

As Becker hurried to catch up with Jess, Grand-Mère frowned, but whether the frown was directed at Becker or Grand-Père or was simply caused by something she had eaten, Becker couldn't tell.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Beneath the peach trees, it was cool and shady. Becker reached a hand out towards Jess. She slowed her rapid stride and turned to face him.

"What are you so upset about?" asked Becker.

"It's… it's just…" spluttered Jess "Grand-Mère's treating me like a child… telling me we should have put away our dishes… ordering us out of the studio… not letting us have a room together…"

Oh. They had forgotten the dishes, leaving them behind on the table in their hurry to go see the studio.

"Sshh, we'll wash dishes tonight… make up for what we forgot" soothed Becker wrapping his arms around her "and it's her home… she can certainly decide who stays here and where they stay."

"But having you sit so far away," sighed Jess as she leaned her head upon his chest. "You don't even speak the language…"

"We were late to dinner," reminded Becker "next time we'll get there early enough to sit together."

She smiled up at him, reaching her hands around him, clasping his buttocks. Her eyes opened wide. She leaned back and looked up at him.

"Hil," she said in a surprised tone "do you not have any underwear on?"

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

By the time Becker had finished explaining all the details of his morning's luggage problems and shower issues, Jess was laughing. He looked at her smiling face.

Becker tilted his head down, breathing softly as he brought his lips to hers. Her mouth was slightly parted, he thrust his tongue forward. Her hands tightened against his backside.

When they broke apart, gasping for air, Becker groaned.

Jess smirked. "There are some interesting possibilities," she said "with your… wardrobe issues."

"No," said Becker nodding his head in the direction behind her. "Someone's coming."

"Oh," groaned Jess in dismay. "Whoever it is has particularly bad timing."

It was Catherine and Geneviève.

"We've been looking for you," exclaimed Kate "Marc and his parent's have arrived. Sophie wants you to meet them."

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_


	8. Evening

**Disclaimer: Primeval does not belong to me, this is fan fiction, not for profit.**

**Any references to people, places, businesses etc is entirely fictitious.**

**A/N: A collaboration with Mijo54. **

8.7- Evening

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Becker liked Marc. He held Sophie tight, his arm around her shoulder as if he would never let her go. The man spoke English and soon they were talking about the hunting Marc enjoyed so much.

"Boar hunting," Marc explained "that's the best… my father, uncle, brothers… we all go together, we take the dogs… Ariègeois hounds…"

"What kind of guns do you use to hunt boar?" asked Becker.

Marc looked at Becker in some confusion. "A hunting rifle of course," he replied.

"But what kind of rifle," persisted Becker.

"Oh," said Marc "Jess said you really like guns…"

"Don't you like guns?"

"I like roast boar," explained Marc. The he added "we should take you to Draguignan to see the artillery museum."

"There's an artillery museum around here?" asked Becker "That sounds great."

"Not so fast Hil," reminded Jess as she came up beside him. "Sophie and I have dress fittings tomorrow and some other errands on Tuesday. Besides, don't you have some shopping you need to do?"

Becker looked at her. "How about Wednesday for a trip to Draguignan?"

Jess turned to look at Marc and Sophie. "What do you think?" she asked.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Jess's Aunt Veronique and Uncle Gaston, Claude's parents, arrived later that evening.

Somehow, Grand-Mère found more chairs to gather around the long narrow rectangular table. Dinner was served at half past eight. There was quiche, a vegetable tray and a cheese tray containing Roquefort, Camembert and a delicious goat cheese with a tangy fig sauce that blended well with the cheese when spread across bread. And of course there was more wine.

This time, Becker found himself sitting next to Jess. Sophie and Marc were directly across from them. Hank sat on his other side, Kate across from her brother. Becker reached his hand sideways beneath the table to give Jess's hand a gentle squeeze.

He heard a little giggle. Becker looked at Jess. She returned his gaze, shaking her head. Together they bent down and looked under the table.

Little Paul was sitting there giggling. Pointing at their interlaced fingers he said in a singsong voice, "Vous tenez le mains."

"Paul," called Jess "quit teasing and come here." At Becker's questioning look, she rolled her eyes and said "he thinks it's funny we are holding hands."

Soon the dark haired little boy was sitting in her lap happily helping himself to some of the food on her plate. At the far end of the table, Claude's wife Aimèe was calling for the little boy. Claude said something which Becker guessed meant "don't make me come get you."

Paul pouted. Then he held out his hands reaching for Becker. The little boy left Jess's lap and clambered over to Becker's lap. He stopped there for a moment and tried to reach for Becker's wine glass.

"No," said Becker trying not to chuckle as he put his hand over the glass.

Paul pouted again. Then the little boy turned to Hank and held out his hands. He repeated the process, going from lap to lap until he finally wound up in Claude's arms. The tall, thin man stood up cuddling the boy against his chest. Across the table, Aimèe also rose and walked around Grand-Père to join her husband and son. Together the family bid their goodnights and headed inside the house.

Becker reached his hand underneath the table again to clasp Jess's hand. Yes, he thought, it was late and time for bed. But first, he and Jess had some dishes to wash.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Becker was up to his elbows in hot water and soap suds.

"Really, I don't mind," he insisted "I can wash, you dry… you know where everything goes."

Jess grinned at him. "I do know where everything goes," she teased raising her eyebrows with a naughty gleam in her eyes.

"That wasn't what I meant," replied Becker flicking soap bubbles in her direction, "and you know it."

Jess chuckled as she walked past him drying the salad platter. After she set the huge dish safely on its shelf, she looked over her shoulder at Becker. He was standing at the sink with his back turned towards her, washing yet another platter. The enticing target was too good to miss. Jess twisted the towel in her hands tightly and then snapped it in his direction.

"Hey," protested Becker as he set the platter back into the sink, "careful with that thing… you don't want me dropping your grandmother's serving platters… we don't want her thinking I'm a clumsy lout as well as a… what was it… voyou?"

"I told her… you are not a rogue." Jess reminded him. "And you got me with soapsuds,"

"You mean like this?" Becker asked grinning, while he flicked soapsuds in her direction again.

She squealed and stepped towards the sink. Then they were both spattering each other with water and soap bubbles, until finally Becker pulled her close into his arms. She looked up at him. He felt a tightening in his chest… he couldn't breathe… his mouth parted open as he leaned down to kiss her. The warmth of her lips and the touch of her tongue chased all thought from Becker's brain.

"Ahem."

Becker and Jess parted abruptly. The sound of Hank clearing his throat worked like cold water.

"Sorry to interrupt," said the big man with a cheeky grin "but here's the last of the dishes."

Hank sat the pile of plates and utensils on the counter next to the huge sink in front of Becker.

Jess looked at her cousin. "You're going to help load the dishwasher, right?"

"Oh no, I loaded dishes after the last meal... it's your turn now. Carry on," said Hank cheerfully "I'm going to bed."

Becker sighed. He had hoped to get to sleep before Hank did. The man snored so loudly.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

_A/N Happy Thanksgiving._


	9. Chocolate

**Disclaimer: Primeval does not belong to me, this is fan fiction, not for profit.**

**Any references to people, places, businesses etc is entirely fictitious.**

**A/N: A collaboration with Mijo54. **

8.7- Chocolate

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Monday morning Becker dressed in his last pair of clean black jeans. The black shirt he had worn on Saturday had been washed and dried. Miraculously the grease had all come out. So he pulled on his own shirt, passing up Hank's offer of a pale green button down.

"Green's not my color," Becker joked.

Hank looked at him contemplatively. "Well, I hope you like purple then," the man replied.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

The kitchen was bustling with activity when he and Hank entered. Jess smiled at him and wordlessly handed him a small cup of coffee.

Sophie, Geneviève, Catherine and Jess were dressed already too. Becker smiled. The cousins appeared to share Jess's love of bright colors. Huddled together, pointing at pictures in the bridal catalogue open on the counter, they made a rainbow of sorts. Sophie wore a blue floral print blouse with solid blue skirt. Geneviève was attired in a dark purple dress. Catherine wore a light pink, dark rose and white striped pants outfit that had the unfortunate effect of making her look somewhat like a peppermint in Becker's opinion.

Jess… took his breath away. She was in a short yellow dress with some sort of orange squiggle marks on it that Becker couldn't identify. His gaze travelled appreciatively down from the hemline to the strappy little orange and yellow heels. Becker would know those legs anywhere.

She cleared her throat. He looked up at her guiltily, feeling that he had been staring, but she just smirked at him and turned back to her cousins. Claude came in at that moment, muttering something as he grabbed a cup of the strong dark coffee and then headed towards the front door.

Becker watched the man go outside and when he heard the Renault start up, he turned to Jess.

"Where's Claude going?" he asked.

"He's taking the minivan to the garage in the village," Jess replied matter of factly.

"Then how are we getting to Nice?"

"Well Sophie's going to drive," answered Jess "Grand-Mère said we could take the Citroen."

Becker almost choked on the coffee as he swallowed. The Citroen was a classic car, an antique certainly, but he hadn't realized anyone actually drove it on public roads anymore. How on earth was that old car going to keep up with the speedy traffic on the French highway he wondered?

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Hank had refused to come along, rolling his eyes at the idea.

"I don't need to go shopping," he said emphatically, "I've got a suit and already did enough driving Saturday night and Sunday morning."

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Becker soon realized, he shouldn't have worried about the car. Grand-Mère kept the Citroen in pristine condition. It started right up and ran smoothly.

What he should have been worried about was Sophie's driving.

Hank had told Becker the drive should take a little over an hour. In somewhat less than the expected time, they arrived at Nice.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Becker stared at the bridal shop in dismay.

All of a sudden he was reminded of his first field outing with the team so many years ago. He had heard Connor going on to Abby about some fear of museums from a childhood incident and had thought the man was completely barmy. But now, standing in front of this shop, Becker wondered if he had been too harsh on the scientist. Becker remembered following his mother and older sister around from shop to shop when he was only eleven years old and his sister was looking for a wedding dress. He shuddered.

"No," he said pleadingly "you don't really need me to go in there with you… I can go get most of my shopping done while you and your cousins… do wedding stuff."

One of the strappy little orange and yellow heels that he had been admiring not so long ago stamped on the ground.

"Hilary," said Jess in a determined tone of voice, "I'm sure there are enough shopkeepers here in Nice that speak English so you would have no trouble buying your clothes. But… you… are… not… wearing… black… to… Sophie's… wedding."

Becker blinked at Jess's vehement declaration. "Why not?" Becker asked "I wore black to Connor and Abby's wedding."

She rolled her eyes. "You were the best man then," she reminded him, "and dressed accordingly with Abby and Connor's color scheme. Sophie and Marc aren't doing the formal black and white with blue accents."

He stared at her for a moment in shock, desperately thinking, searching for a way out.

"I'm not a part of the wedding party!" exclaimed Becker with relief.

"No," agreed Jess, "but I am, and you need to dress accordingly."

She grabbed his wrist and tugged him towards the door. Remembering Hank's comment when he had rejected the man's green shirt earlier, Becker wondered… what was the color scheme for Sophie and Marc's wedding?

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Once the shop keeper had confirmed that Becker was not the groom, the woman was quite ready to bring out the ladies dresses. Sophie had been to the shop several times before, so trying on her ivory gown was merely a chance for her to swirl the flared skirt in delight and let her cousins admire the satin and chiffon concoction. Geneviève, Catherine and Jess had not tried on their dresses yet, and the seamstress was eagerly waiting, pins in hand.

Geneviève entered the changing room next. She came out wearing a lavender colored dress, embroidered with the same dark green vine and leaves found climbing the left side of Sophie's dress. But where Sophie's dress had a flared skirt with dark and light purple colored flowers embroidered across her chest, Geneviève's dress was a straighter, simpler cut and had dark purple and white flowers embroidered on the lavender material. As soon as Geneviève stepped into her dark green shoes with purple heels, the seamstress began pinning up the hemline.

Jess smiled happily and squeezed Becker's hand. "Don't the shoes look great?" she whispered to him. "I found them in London, and as soon as Sophie saw the picture, she agreed they were perfect for the bridesmaid's shoes."

Becker chuckled.

Catherine entered the changing room next, and then called for Jess to come assist. The two girls could be heard whispering in the tiny room. Finally, Catherine came out wearing one of the dresses.

"I think there's been a bit of a mistake," Catherine told the seamstress, "this dress is long enough for me to wear, but the bodice is too tight."

The woman began measuring Catherine. "No worries," she said cheerfully "we can let out the seams… we always include extra fabric."

Jess came out of the changing room at that moment. Becker's jaw dropped open. The lavender colored material complimented her skin tone, and to his eyes, she looked even lovelier than ever. But she looked a little uncomfortable; her arms were crisscrossed over her bosom.

"This dress," said Jess "is the right length for me, but the bodice is way too loose."

The seamstress stopped measuring Catherine and turned to look at Jess. "When is the wedding?"

Sophie answered "This Saturday."

The seamstress smiled. "No worries," she said picking up her measuring tape, "come back Friday… we'll have all the last minute changes ready then."

There was a flurry of discussion amongst the women, and finally it was agreed to return on Thursday for the dresses. Sophie, Geneviève, Catherine left the shop smiling and chatting, while Becker waited for Jess. She finally came out dressed in her short yellow and orange dress.

"We'll need to hurry if we're to catch up with them," said Becker.

"We're not," explained Jess "they're going to get their hair touched up for Saturday… I got mine done before we left London. We are going shopping for your suit, and other necessary clothing, then we will meet them at the Zone Pietonne." She grinned, then added, "The Pedestrian Zone… it's a great area full of shops and restaurants."

"What did you do to your hair?" asked Becker. He was only focusing on the surprising comment that Jess had made about having her hair done.

"Just my regular touch up," replied Jess. She was blushing a little.

He reached out to take her hand as they stepped out of the shop onto the busy sidewalk.

"I didn't know you did anything to your hair," he said in a questioning tone.

"Well you wouldn't want me to show up with Dad's bright orange hair now, would you?" asked Jessica.

"What?" asked Becker in some confusion. "I thought only Evie had your father's hair." George Parker was easily recognizable with his bright ginger colored hair, but his wife had a dark chestnut color to her hair.

"No," explained Jess. "Evie's lucky… she's got Granny Parker's dark auburn hair. Alexandra's got Mum's hair. Marjorie and I are somewhere in between Dad's ginger and Mum's chestnut. We both color our hair, just enough to get the orange out."

"You and Marjorie don't have the same hair color," objected Becker.

"Of course not," replied Jess "Marjorie uses a rinse color called Expresso."

"And what do you use?" asked Becker teasingly.

Jess stopped walking. She pointed to the door of a men's wear store.

"Jess," said Becker with a smirk. Jess blushed from head to toe.

"Chocolate," she replied as she opened the door.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_


	10. Men's Wear

**Disclaimer: Primeval does not belong to me, this is fan fiction, not for profit.**

**Any references to people, places, businesses etc is entirely fictitious.**

**A/N: A collaboration with Mijo54. **

8.7- Men's Wear

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Becker followed Jess into the shop.

Already, Becker could see he wasn't going to like this store any better than the bridal shop. A slender young man was making a beeline towards Jess. He was rubbing his hands together and smiling. He greeted Jess in French. She replied in English, pointing to Becker.

"My boyfriend needs a suit," said Jess "to wear to a wedding this Saturday."

Without missing a beat, the salesman responded in English. "Of course," he said "I'm sure we will be able to find something for him. Were you looking for any particular color?"

"Not black," said Jess firmly as she followed the man into the depths of the store. Becker trailed after the pair, desperately hoping that the shop didn't have purple or green suits.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

"You cannot wear those shoes," the man had told him haughtily. "They look more like something one would wear hunting or to a battle… for a wedding, you must have dress shoes."

Becker took his shoes off and stood very still as the young man measured the length of his legs, his waist, chest and length of his arms.

"You should take your pants off so I can get a better measurement of your waist."

"No," replied Becker, his teeth clenched tightly. "and I've got dress shoes."

"What color?" asked both Jess and the tailor.

"They're black," answered Becker "and they fit fine. I'm wearing them."

"Well," said the slender man shaking his head "you can not wear a brown suit then."

"No," agreed Jess "and brown wouldn't go with the color scheme anyway." To Becker's horror, she pulled three ribbons out from her bag to show the man. The dark green, dark purple and lavender ribbons matched the embroidered flowers on the dresses he had just seen. The man smiled.

"I have just the suit," he said as he hurried to a display rack. With a flourish, he brought forth a green suit.

"No," said Jess shaking her head before the man had taken two steps forward "it's not the right sort of green, it's too bright… it would clash."

Becker would have chuckled at the man's facial expression if he hadn't been quite so relieved himself. He wondered how long the man had been trying to get rid of that suit.

Another darker green suit was deemed to be too much like an avocado. Then for a moment, Becker was very worried as Jess rubbed her hand across a dark purple velveteen suit. She sighed and determined it too would clash.

"Perhaps a gray suit," suggested the man "with a shirt in a complementary color?"

Jess smiled. "Let's see it."

The elegant suit was a soft gray color, with a two button jacket.

"For the vest," said the man "you can choose any one of these." He placed a dark purple vest on the counter, followed by a dark green vest with a narrow gray pinstripe on it, and lastly a gray brocade vest with a subtle dark green leaf design woven into the fabric.

Jess went straight toward the brocade vest, holding the dark green ribbon in her hand against the leaf design. It was a match.

"I don't suppose you have a dress shirt in this color," said Jess holding up the dark purple ribbon.

Of course the man did.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

After much measuring and promises to return on Thursday wearing his dress shoes, Becker and Jess left the men's wear shop. Becker made the remainder of his purchases at the next shop. Then, they were strolling, hand in hand, gawking like tourists in the warm Spring sunshine.

"Oh," exclaimed Jess "you've got to come with me." She pulled Becker by the hand as they headed towards the water. "It's called the Promenade des Anglais."

Becker stopped and stared. "The water is so blue," he said. Then he could have kicked himself for stating something so obvious, but Jess seemed to understand his amazement.

"It's not always blue though," she whispered "see the way the light hits the Mediterranean… it shimmers… there's teal, turquoise, emerald green… it even shines gold when the light hits it just right… I love to look at the sea."

Becker tightened his fingers on hers. She looked up at him, her lips parted in a smile. He brought his other hand to the side of her face. Then he bent his neck, bringing his face down towards her. Their lips met, and for a moment, time stood still.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Jess's cell phone rang.

"Yes," she said, then continued speaking into the phone in French. When she snapped the phone shut, she turned to Becker with a bright smile.

"Are you ready for lunch?" she asked.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Jess and Becker met Sophie, Geneviève, and Catherine at a nearby café. They sat outside, enjoying the beautiful day. The waiter soon brought their sandwiches. The pain bagnats, a round wheat bread sandwich with tomatoes, lettuce, egg, tuna and olive oil, were delicious.

Becker liked pepper on his sandwiches and looked around for a shaker. Turning to Jess, he asked "Where's the pepper?"

From his other side, Sophie replied "Hilary, here is the pepper."

He turned to face her. "I thought you didn't speak English," he said in a questioning tone.

"I do speak English," Sophie said carefully "but not very well."

"You speak better English than I do French," replied Becker. "I'm rubbish at languages."

From across the table, Geneviève asked "Have you tried learning French?"

"You too?" asked Becker. He looked around the table. Geneviève had been sleeping in the car ride when she wasn't driving, and he'd only met Sophie yesterday evening, and he had wound up talking more to Marc than to her, but something didn't make sense.

"If you all speak English, then why were you talking in French all during the car ride and in the shop this morning?"

Sophie answered. "French is our language, for family and friends," she said "English is for work."

"Besides," said Kate with a smirk, "we can hardly ask Jess to tell us all about you in English with you standing right there."

Becker turned to look at Jess. She blushed and took another bite of her sandwich.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

After they finished eating, the group went to the fish market. Fresh monkfish, both red and black sea bream, scorpionfish and conger were purchased.

"What are the fish for?" asked Becker.

"Bouillabaisse," answered Jess.

"Oh," said Becker. He remembered the dish from a French restaurant he had taken Jess to once. He thought she didn't like it. Spying some mussels in the next booth, he moved towards them and picked up a scoop. Starting to put the mussels in a container, he asked "How many do you want?"

"None," said Jess wrinkling up her nose. "We're making bouillabaisse for dinner tonight using my Grandmother's recipe."

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

If anything, the return drive back to Grand-mère's was quicker than the drive to Nice. They were soon all back in the kitchen.

"What can I do to help?" asked Becker.

Kate grinned. Handing him a paring knife, she asked "Can you peel potatoes?"

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_


	11. Tuesday

**Disclaimer: Primeval does not belong to me, this is fan fiction, not for profit.**

**Any references to people, places, businesses etc is entirely fictitious.**

**A/N: A collaboration with Mijo54. **

8.7- Tuesday

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Becker woke early. Years of training and responsibility had made it a habit for him to rise early, even if he was on vacation. The birdsong coming in through the open window above his head also might have had a bit to do with waking him, but Becker couldn't complain. The chirping and trilling sounded quite cheerful and was much better than listening to the combined snoring of Hank and Claude's brother Benoit.

The younger man had arrived with his sister Louise and her boyfriend in time for dinner last night. A cot for Benoit had been set up in the room Becker shared with Hank. Louise and her boyfriend had gone into the village after the evening meal, intending to stay there.

Carefully avoiding bumping into either of the sleeping men, Becker grabbed some clean clothes from his purchases yesterday and made it down the hallway to the bathroom. There were advantages to being the first one up in the morning, like a hot shower.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

When Becker entered the kitchen, he found that he wasn't the first one to be up this morning. Grand-Père, dressed like Becker in black pants and a long sleeve black button down shirt was making coffee. Becker greeted the man and asked what he was doing up so early.

With a slight roll of his eyes, the older gentleman responded "I am, as you say, in the doghouse, so I go to paint."

As the man stepped out the back door, heading towards his studio, Becker heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Jess, Sophie, Genevieve and Catherine came into the kitchen. The women were already dressed and had their hair tied back.

"You're up early," said Becker, as he bent down to give Jess a light kiss on the lips.

"Lots to do today," she replied as she moved past him to the coffee "we've got to get things ready for the wedding feast on Saturday you know."

"I can help," said Becker.

"Hil," Jess said as she turned towards him holding the coffee in her hands, "I appreciate the offer, but right now we're going to be ironing linens, polishing silverware and putting together the dragées."

Becker didn't know what dragées were, and he thought ironing was best left to the professionals, but he knew a lot about polishing metal. He had plenty of experience with polishing his guns, so he volunteered to polish the silverware. After all, how hard could it be?

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

They had all gone out to sit at the long table in the garden. Trays of sliced bread and fruit for breakfast along with the steaming mugs of hot coffee were an enjoyable start to the day. It wasn't long before the rest of the household began to stir.

Grand-Mère arrived shortly, carrying a jar of silver polish, several soft cloths and two small bristle brushes the size of a toothbrush. Becker stood up and asked where he should find the silverware. Jess translated for him, and Grand-Mère responded with something about Claude.

"Go into the kitchen," Jess told Becker "Claude's getting the silverware out, he will need your help carrying it out here."

Becker headed towards the kitchen wondering how much silverware there was to polish. Little Paul ran past him giggling as his mother, Aimèe, followed trying to keep up with the boy. Becker turned to look. Jess had caught the rambunctious youngster, scooping him up into her arms; she was holding him for his mother. Together, the two women seated the child at the table for his breakfast.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

In the kitchen, Becker found Claude hauling a heavy box off a shelf. "Hilary, you take," said Claude pointing back to the garden. Becker took the box with both hands, his arms stiffening with the exertion. He watched as Claude reached for a second box, grabbing it as if it weighed nothing, and heading towards the door.

The two men reached the table, setting down their burden. They were followed by Geneviève's parents. Edouard and Moniquè were carrying more boxes, which looked to be somewhat lighter than the heavy boxes Becker and Claude had just brought to the table.

Jess, Sophie, Genevieve and Catherine eagerly began opening the boxes, spreading the contents out across the table.

"Non Paul," said Aimèe as the boy tried to get down from his chair "ceux qui ne sont pas pour vous."

"What is it?" asked Becker.

Jess held up a white container, imprinted with a lavender motif on the lid. "We're going to fill the boxes," she explained "with dragées."

"And chocolate," added Sophie, grinning at her cousin.

"But what are dragées?"

"Candy," answered Jess as she opened several of the boxes. There were three different colors of the hard shelled confectionary creation, ivory, purple and green. Similarly, there were three types of chocolate hearts, milk chocolate, dark chocolate and white chocolate. Pointing at the ivory colored candies, Jess added "Those have caramel, my favorite after chocolate. The purple are almonds, and I don't remember what Sophie said the green ones were filled with."

Becker chuckled. No wonder Paul's mother didn't want the boy to get into the boxes.

Moniquè said something to the group then, and turned to follow her husband back into the house.

"Well that's a relief," said Jess as she picked up one of the white containers and started filling it.

"What?" asked Becker.

"Aunt Moniquè said she and Uncle Edouard are taking the table linens into town to be washed and ironed," Jess replied "I hate ironing."

Becker agreed. He picked up the soft cloth in one hand and opened the silverware box with the other. He stared at the ornate floral pattern on the handles with dismay. Polishing silverware was going to be a lot harder than polishing his Mossberg.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

By lunch time, the silver was all polished and shining. The containers were filled with candy. Everything was neatly stacked in the pantry awaiting Saturday.

Becker looked at the crowd of family and friends gathering outside under the awning at the long table. Hank and Benoit had finally woken and were out there, as well as Benoit's sister Louise and her boyfriend.

"I think your grandmother might be running out of chairs," he said quietly to Jess as she pushed the last stack of the containers back on the shelf.

"Oh never," said Jess cheerfully. "There's folding tables and chairs out behind Grand-Père's studio. We'll be setting them up this afternoon between the meadow and the lavender beds for Saturday's wedding feast."

Becker held out a hand to help Jess climb down from the step stool. "I just meant that I don't think we'll get to sit together at the midday meal," he said.

Jess looked out at the crowd around the table. Her bottom lip pouted for just a moment, then a smile lit up her face.

"How about a picnic?" she suggested. "You go get a blanket, I'll pack us something to eat."

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Becker had the blanket from his bed draped over his shoulder and he was carrying the picnic basket with one hand, his other hand holding Jessica's as they walked through the peach orchard to the uncultivated land beyond. A narrow trail meandered down the side of a hill. The terrain was strewn with boulders, and Becker teased that it hardly seemed a likely spot for a picnic.

"The land get's flatter," said Jess as they continued down the hill "near the stream. We used to come here as children, but the main river had some severe flooding a few years back. Hopefully our picnic spot is still there."

The ground did get flatter, and the soft grassy spot along the quiet stream was still there, just as Jess remembered it. But it seemed they weren't the only ones who wanted a quiet lunch today. Claude, his wife Aimèe and their son Paul were already settled in the shade beneath one of the huge plane trees growing along the riverbank. The threesome looked up at Jess and Becker's arrival, smiling and urging them to join their family.

It wasn't the quiet meal alone with Jess that Becker had been hoping for, but the shared laughter and conversation away from all the wedding commotion was a welcome respite.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

As they packed away the picnic things, Becker asked Jess why the wedding was being held at Grand-Mère's.

"What do you mean?" asked Jess.

"Well, it's just… when my sister was married," said Becker "she and my mother arranged everything. My grandmother came for the wedding of course, but she wasn't as involved in everything as Grand-Mère appears to be… I mean really… it's a lot of work for her."

"It's a lot of joy for Grand-Mère," Jess corrected him gently. "Sophie's an only child, and my Aunt Marianne and Uncle Simon have a very small place in the village. Marc's parent's are going to be hosting the wine of honor in the village after the wedding, but the wedding feast for all the family will be here. Grand-Mère wouldn't have it any other way."

Becker smiled. He could well imagine the elderly woman putting her foot down on any plans that she didn't agree with.

"It's a lot of work, as well as joy," said Becker. "I imagine some of the stress might be why she and your grandfather arguing."

Jess's head came up straight, her eyes widening. "What?"

"You didn't know?" asked Becker in surprise "Grand-Père said he was in the doghouse this morning, and he wasn't at the table for the meal."

"What are they arguing about?" asked Jess with a worried expression on her face.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_


	12. After the Picnic

**Disclaimer: Primeval does not belong to me, this is fan fiction, not for profit.**

**Any references to people, places, businesses etc is entirely fictitious.**

**A/N: A collaboration with Mijo54. **

8.7- After the picnic

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Jess and Becker followed Claude and his family back to the farmhouse. Little Paul walked hand in hand with his parents, first taking a small step, then a giant leap as they swung him up into the air. It was a leisurely walk back to the farmhouse, one that Becker thought ended all too soon.

If anything, there was even more chaos and commotion at the house than before.

A large truck stood next to Grand-Père's studio. The doors to the cargo container swung open wide. Grand-Père stood on the narrow gravel path. He was turning his head first one way, then the other, looking from the contents of the truck and back to where Hank and Benoit were maneuvering one of the many bulky crates down the trucks loading ramp. Grand-Père looked up at their approach.

"Ah, there you are," the artist said happily "just in time to help. Come along now."

Aimèe took little Paul by the hand, shepherding him towards the house. Jess watched as Grand-Père directed Claude and Becker to opposite corners of the crate from Hank and Benoit.

"It will move better with all of you," the older man said

The crate was heavy. Becker glanced at Jess's cousins in surprise. They must be very strong to have moved the box this far he thought.

"Ready on three," said Hank. "une, deux, trois."

Becker's muscles strained as he and the others attempted to lift the crate. It moved about six inches before they set it down.

"What's in here," asked Becker "rocks?

"Yeah," chuckled Hank. "Marble actually… the largest of Grand-Père's sculptures from the Asia-Pacific tour."

The big man took another deep breath, then repeated "Ready on three, une, deux, trois." Together, the men moved the heavy crate another six inches.

"This is going to take a while," huffed Becker "don't they have professionals for moving stuff like this?"

"Yeah, but Grand-Père won't use them. Say's he trusts us better…" replied Hank "just be glad the other crates don't have anything quite this heavy in them."

"How many more crates?" asked Becker as they started to move the heavy burden again.

"Fourteen."

Behind him, Becker could hear Genevieve calling Jess.

"Quit watching your boyfriend flex his muscles," Genevieve teased "we need your help getting ready now. Marjorie called. She and her family will be here in time for dinner."

Becker groaned, but whether it was from the heavy lifting or the news that Jess's eldest sister was arriving three days early he wasn't saying.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

It took all afternoon for the four men to get the crates out of the truck and into Grand-Père's studio. Then they began opening the crates. Hank kept up a non-stop discussion of each piece of artwork as they opened and unwrapped the objects.

Becker soon learned that Grand-Père had been on tour with his artwork for the last fourteen months. The heavy marble sculpture had been well received in Sydney. The freeform female figure had even been shown in the front gallery at the Museum of Contemporary Art before Grand-Père's tour moved on. The fragile creation of colored glass, mirrors, metal and peacock feathers was a featured work shown in the National Art Gallery at Singapore.

"From what Jess told me," said Becker "I thought he was more of a painter."

"Well, he is a painter," replied Hank.

"We haven't unpacked a single painting," said Becker "where are they?"

"The paintings came last week," said Claude with a chuckle "they travelled with Grand-Père."

"Grand-Père has loaned some paintings to galleries, some have been sold to private collector's," answered Hank. Pointing at the larger painting near the front window, Hank added "Some, like his newest painting, he brought home… unfortunately."

"Why do you say unfortunately?" asked Becker.

Benoit snorted in amusement. Becker looked at him in surprise. It was the first sound, other than snoring, he had heard from the younger man.

"Grand-Mère hates it," explained Hank. "I heard them arguing about that painting. Grand-Père wants it in the house… Grand-Mère refuses."

Becker looked at the painting. It was the one that Jess and her grandfather had been talking about so intently Sunday afternoon. The oil painting was of a beautiful nude woman with dark hair. She was sitting with her back to the viewer, but a mirror in the painting reflected the woman's face, her smile, eyes half closed and her breasts.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

It wasn't until he was back in the main house that Becker got to see Jess again. He was washing up for dinner in the bathroom with the door to the hallway open. Jess stepped into the bathroom with him and pulled the door shut tight behind her, firmly clicking the lock.

"Jess," asked Becker, eying her in the mirror, "are you all right?"

"Ooooh!" exclaimed Jess. "Marjorie! She drives me crazy."

Becker tried to swallow a chuckle. Jess's oldest sister had that effect on a lot of people. "What happened?

"Genevieve and I made up the beds in the front room for her and the boys," replied Jess "we used the first sheets in the linen closet… pink sheets. Marjorie had a fit. We wound up having to strip the beds and remake them with white cotton sheets just to shut her up. She's only just arrived! How am I going to last until the wedding?"

Becker dried his hands on the towel and turned to face Jess. Pulling her close to him, he wrapped his arms around her.

"I doubt that Charles or Peter really care what color the sheets are," whispered Becker. "You just need to ignore her when she gets that way."

Jess sighed and leaned her head against his chest.

"You're right," she said "I just need to concentrate on what's really important."

The doorknob rattled. Outside in the hallway, eight year old Charles could be heard loudly demanding "Hurry up Aunt Jess!"

Six year old Peter followed his older brother's lead with a loud question, "Aunt Jess, are you kissing Hilary again?"

"Oh no," said Jess "they followed me!"

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

As Jess and Becker followed her nephews down the stairs, Becker said "I think I know what your grandparents are arguing about."

"What?"

"That painting you liked," said Becker "it's his newest painting. Hank said your grandfather painted it while away on this last tour. It sounds like he is proud of his work… he wants the painting in the house… but your grandmother doesn't like it. She won't have it in the house."

"How could she not like it?" asked Jess as Becker held the door open for her. As they walked through the garden to the dinner table and all the family gathered there, Becker could only speculate.

"Maybe she doesn't like nudes?"

"No, that's not it," said Jess "Grand-Mère used to pose for him when Grand-Père first started painting."

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Jess's grandparents weren't at the table when they got underneath the awning. Marjorie greeted Becker.

"Glad to see that the government agency you work for finally let you have some time off," said the woman. "What happened to your eye?"

In all the hustle and bustle of the last several days, Becker had completely forgotten about his black eye. The swelling had gone down and it no longer hurt, but it still appeared discolored.

"Ran into a brick," was all the reply he made.

"Where are Grand-Mère and Grand-Père?" asked Jess.

For a moment, Marjorie looked unsettled. Then hardening her expression she told Jess "Grand-Mère went to get Grand-Père from the studio."

"I'll just go check on them," said Jess. Becker followed closely behind her. He wasn't getting left behind.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

As they approached the studio, Jess and Becker could hear Grand-Mère and Grand-Père talking, arguing really, in French.

Jess's eyes widened. She gasped. Her hands flew to her face.

"What is it Jess?" asked Becker. Jess lowered her hands, she was still staring at her grandparents standing in the open doorway of the studio.

"Grand-Mère… she thinks the painting is another woman," said Jess. "Oh how could she not know?"

Jess ran towards her grandparents. "Grand-Mère," she called "Grand-Mère!"

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

All it took was a few words of explanation from Jess.

The formidable old woman looked at her husband and said something in French. Grand-Père stepped forward, taking her in his arms, speaking quietly. All Becker heard was something that sounded like ma chère amour, before Jess was pulling him back, away from the couple.

"What was that all about?" asked Becker.

"Grand-Père was lonely," explained Jess "while he was on tour, he painted the nude of Grand-Mère from memory. She saw the painting, didn't recognize herself, and thought the worst."

"That's not what they were saying when they hugged," said Becker.

"Right," responded Jess. "Grand-Mère told him that she doesn't look like that anymore. And he said that in his eyes, she always looks like that."

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_


	13. Draguignan

**Disclaimer: Primeval does not belong to me, this is fan fiction, not for profit.**

**Any references to people, places, businesses etc is entirely fictitious.**

**A/N: A collaboration with Mijo54. **

8.7- Draguignan

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Becker eagerly entered the kitchen Wednesday morning. Today was the day he and Jess were going with Sophie and her fiancé Marc to Draguignan. The artillery museum had sounded interesting when Marc had mentioned it, but to Becker the main attraction was a day with Jess and no wedding preparations.

He smiled at Jess as he poured a cup of the strong, dark coffee that Grand-Mère kept ready in the kitchen at all hours. The bright teal dress she wore was trimmed with black piping that accentuated her curves, bringing an appreciative gleam to his eye.

"Where's Sophie," asked Becker "is she ready to go to Draguignan?"

Jess turned to face him, smiling even more brightly than usual. Something in her expression put Becker on guard.

"Sophie's calling Marc," answered Jess, twisting her hands together. "She's seeing if he can borrow his parent's minivan."

"Why?" asked Becker. The sporty black Peugot Marc drove was big enough for the four of them.

"Well, it's either his parent's minivan," said Jess "or Grand-Mère's Citroen."

Becker looked at Jess. She was wringing her hands again. He started to step towards her, but then he had to quickly back up as eight year old Charles ran through the kitchen and out the door to the garden slamming the door behind him. The boy was quickly followed by six year old Peter and then bringing up the rear was Little Paul. The boy's mothers, Marjorie and Aimèe, chased after them.

As the door shut behind the two women, Becker looked carefully at Jess. She was biting her bottom lip and looking up at him in a pleading manner with those beautiful eyes he found so hard to resist.

"Jess," asked Becker "Why do we need a bigger car?"

"Marjorie heard me talking to Sophie," replied Jess "she told Charles and Peter that they could go with us to the artillery museum."

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a howl. Outside Little Paul could be heard putting up a fuss. His mother returned through the kitchen carrying the child and talking to him in a quiet, no nonsense tone of voice. The pair passed between Jess and Becker and continued to the stairs.

As the two disappeared up the stairs, Becker looked at Jess again. She was smiling brightly again, but still twisting her hands.

"Aimèe told Paul he couldn't come," explained Jess "and if he doesn't start behaving, he will have to take a nap."

"It's a little early for a nap," started Becker, but then he was interrupted as Jess's nephews opened the kitchen door.

The boys raced through the kitchen talking loudly. Charles grabbed a croissant as he passed the counter, but Peter never slowed down. They were out into the front of the house before Marjorie even made it to the kitchen door. The woman slowed her pursuit for a moment to speak to Becker and Jess.

"I told them," Marjorie said cheerily "that they had to behave for you, or you won't buy them any ice cream."

Grand-Mère could be heard in the front of the house, chastising Charles and Peter from the sounds of it.

"I'll just make sure they're ready," added Marjorie as she headed towards the sound of the voices.

Becker rolled his eyes.

"Is there any way we can get out of taking them?" he asked Jess.

"No," she said with a sigh. "I tried already."

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Jess had gone back upstairs to see what was keeping Sophie. Becker was munching on a croissant and pouring another cup of coffee when Claude entered the kitchen.

"Bonjour," said Becker attempting to speak French. Claude just raised one eyebrow and nodded. He reached for a cup. Becker chuckled. By this time, he had learned Jess's oldest cousin didn't speak until he'd had at least one cup of coffee in the morning.

"Is there a car rental place in town?" Becker asked.

Claude nodded.

"I need to rent a car, to get back to Paris," said Becker as Grand-Mère entered the kitchen. The woman stopped in her tracks and stared at him.

"Ask Jess to help you," said Claude quietly. He leaned back against the kitchen counter staring at Becker too.

"But I can't," said Becker "I don't want her to know."

A loud harrumph sounded from Grand-Mère. She frowned at Becker and said "Voyou," before stomping off.

Becker turned to look at Claude who was now also frowning at him. What did I say Becker wondered?

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Waiting in the garden, Becker took out his cell phone. Connor wasn't the most socially adept person in the world, but he was a friend and more familiar with French culture than Becker was. Becker dialed his friends number, hoping his voice didn't sound too worried.

"Connor," Becker said "you've got to help me out… I don't know exactly what I said."

The voice on the other end of the phone was calm, soothing and gone all too quickly. Becker stared at the cell phone as it clicked off.

"I can't ask Jess," he said to the phone "she's not supposed to know."

"What exactly is my youngest granddaughter not supposed to know?" asked a kindly voice. Grand-Père was slowly walking towards him. "And what have you done to upset both my wife and Claude?"

"What?"

"Claude came to me, said you wanted to rent a car, but didn't want Jess to know," replied Grand-Père.

"Yeah," answered Becker "it's part of the deal we had… Jess arranged the first week of our vacation, and I get to arrange the second week…"

At Grand-Père's uncomprehending gaze, Becker added "I wanted to surprise her. I've got hotel reservations in Paris... I've got it all planned out... but we have to get to Paris."

"Ahh," said Grand-Père, nodding. "That explains why my wife is ranting that you are not good enough for Jessica… she thought you wanted to leave without Jess."

"What? No," exclaimed Becker in surprise. "I couldn't… no… not ever…"

Oh Lord, thought Becker, I'm babbling like Connor.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Grand-Père and Becker sought out Claude. Becker tried again to explain what he wanted to do, this time telling Claude why he didn't want Jess to know.

The man grinned. "So you have made plans for Jess and you in Paris," he said "very good. But do you have a translated copy of your driver's license?"

"What?" asked Becker. "No, why?"

"You can't rent a car in France without a translated copy of your driver's license," replied Claude with a chuckle "we worry about you English driver's… you drive on the wrong side of the road."

Becker sighed. This was getting complicated. "I can drive a bloody tank," he said in an exasperated tone of voice, "but I can't drive a rental car?

"Not here," said Claude kindly "but maybe you and Jess could ride back Sunday with my family. You would have to sit in the back seat with Paul…"

"That would be perfect," said Becker. "Would you drop us off at the hotel?" Claude nodded in agreement, and then left. Becker turned to Grand-Père.

"Do you have any idea how I can straighten out this misunderstanding with Grand-Mère?" asked Becker.

"Leave it to me," said the older man.

"Grand-Mère thinks I'm a voyou," said Becker glumly.

"I wouldn't worry about that," said Grand-Père with a twinkle in his eye. "Her mother used to call me that all the time."

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_


	14. Dragons and Fairies

**Disclaimer: Primeval does not belong to me, this is fan fiction, not for profit.**

**Any references to people, places, businesses etc is entirely fictitious.**

**A/N: A collaboration with Mijo54. **

8.7- Dragons and Fairies

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

The drive to Draguignan took longer than expected.

The group started the trip with Marc driving his parent's minivan, Sophie in the middle front seat, and Becker in the front passenger seat. Jess sat with her nephews in the back.

The first time Marc pulled the car over to a rest area, was after one of the high spirited boys had thrown a small ball at the front window. It ricocheted around the seating compartment, striking Becker on the forehead. Jessica moved to sit in between the boys. Once everyone was buckled back in their seats, Marc started the minivan again.

They drove twelve kilometers before the squabbling in the back seat grew out of control. A childish feud had resulted in little hands poking at each other and a chorus of "He touched me." Jess had tried to quiet the boys. Becker sat with his jaw clenched shut, staring straight forward, determined not to say anything. But, when one overactive hand poked Jess in the stomach, bringing a sharp cry of pain from her, he turned to stare at the boys in the back seat.

"Marc," said Becker "pull over."

"At the rest area," promised Marc.

"Hil," said Jess "I'm fine… Charles and Peter aren't going to…"

Whatever the boys weren't going to do was never explained as Becker reached over the seat and grabbed a toy slingshot from Charles.

"Is this what made that ball go bouncing around the car earlier?" demanded Becker sternly. The boy nodded sheepishly.

"I'll just hang on to it then," said Becker "I'm the weapons expert."

At the rest area, they rearranged the seating. Jess sat up front with Marc and Sophie, Becker sat in the middle of the two boys in the back seat.

It was ten minutes later that Peter began to squirm in his seat. "I gotta go," said the boy anxiously.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

The twisting turning roads, finally led them to the city of Draguignan. An interesting mix of old and new buildings distracted the boys.

"Ooh," exclaimed Charles "part of a castle!"

"Non Charles," explained Sophie "that is the clock tower, not a castle."

"Cool," breathed Charles staring wide eyed at the imposing structure.

"Can we climb it?" asked Peter.

"What?" asked Becker in surprise, wondering what brought that idea. "No! You can't go climbing a building."

Jess was laughing in the front seat. "Oh Peter," she said "it does look like the castle playscape at the park back in Manchester, but this is a real building and much too tall for you to climb.

Marc pulled the minivan in a shady spot in the municipal parking lot. "We're here," he said. "Welcome to the city of the dragon."

That statement got everyone in the back seats attention.

"What?" exclaimed three voices in unison.

Sophie chuckled as she undid her seatbelt. Pointing to the red municipal sign emblazoned with a white dragon, she said "Centuries ago, a dragon came to this city. A holy man, Saint Hermentaire fought the dragon, killing it and saving the people."

Jess opened the car door and stepped out onto the pavement. Her cousin followed her, while Marc got out the drivers door.

"Well aren't you coming?" asked Jess staring at Charles, Becker and Peter as they remained in the back seat.

"Jess," said Becker, tapping his hand on the door "the child proof locks are on."

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

The boys wanted to see the weapon Saint Hermentaire used to kill the dragon, and so did Becker. But if the Musée de l'Artillerie had a section on dragon slaying weapons, they never saw it.

A short stroll from the parking lot brought Sophie, Marc, Jess, Becker and the boys to the museum. The air conditioning was a welcome relief from the hot air outside, but the museum was designed for military buffs, not little boys. Looking at guns in glass cases wasn't quite the same as holding them in your hands thought Becker. And looking at uniforms in glass cases was even less interesting.

Cannons were cool though. And Becker could definitely understand Peter's desire to climb on top and straddle one. Unfortunately the museum security guard didn't think that was a good idea. They were asked to leave.

Back outside, Sophie made a suggestion. "It's Wednesday," she said "market day in Draguignan. If we hurry, we can get there before it closes.

Becker arched his eyebrow. "Do you really think taking the boys shopping is a good idea?"

"Hil," said Jess "it's an open air market… arts and crafts, vendors of all sorts…"

"It is always interesting," added Marc "we can get some food and go to the park… have a picnic and let the boys run around some."

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

It was a short walk to the town square. The market was full of people. Local farmers had displays of fresh produce, tomatoes, eggplant, zucchini and melons. Bakers offered trays of baguettes and croissants. Other vendors had everything imaginable for sale, books and curtains, roast chickens and olive oil.

There was even one artisan with an awning shading a display of fabric creations. The man was sewing and keeping up a nonstop conversation with his customers too. His market stall had house wares and ladies accessories for the most part, but he also had stuffed animals. Peter stared, entranced by the purple dragon, while Charles reached one hand out to touch a black dragon. For the first time today, they were quiet.

Becker looked at Jess. She was watching the boys closely, smiling.

"Would you rather have a dragon," asked Becker "instead of an ice cream?"

Becker picked up a red dragon for Paul. "It looks sort of like a dracorex," he told Jess "only with wings."

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

The park was not as hot as the sidewalks and city center had been. Sophie, Marc, Jess and Becker were sitting on the picnic blanket eating slices of fresh melon, and sandwiches made of chunks of bread, cheese and a local sausage from the market. They had tried to get the boys to eat something, but Charles and Peter were too interested in climbing on the monkey bars, making pretend their dragons were soaring and climbing to eat anything.

Marc was telling Becker about the Dolmen Pierre de la fée.

"What?"

"When we get ready to leave," said Marc "we will drive past the fairy rock… but I won't stop, I don't want to let the boys out there… they might want to climb it."

Becker turned to Jess. "This city has dragons and fairies?" he asked.

"This city has legends and history," she answered "the Romans had a road that went right through this area, travelers from all over came, each with their stories."

Hmmph. Becker grinned thoughtfully. "When I first started working at the ARC," he told Jess "Professor Cutter and Sarah were working on an anomaly map… Sarah was trying to pinpoint all the old legends… thought they were signs of anomaly activity. I wonder if they ever got to check out Draguignan?"

Jess's eyes widened. "We are not going to have an anomaly here," she stated emphatically "we've got to attend a wedding!"

Becker reached his hand out to touch the side of her face. "I don't think dragons or fairies either one would dare interfere with a wedding you helped coordinate."

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

They finally got the boys to eat something and then they all climbed back in the minivan. It was a good thing the child proof locks were on when Marc pulled up to the parking area by the dolmen. The huge rocks, stacked precariously one upon the other, seemed to be impossibly balanced. And yes, both Charles and Peter wanted to get out and climb on the rocks. But they didn't argue when Marc said it was time to leave. Both boys dozed on the way home.

When they arrived back at Grand-Mère's there were more cars in the driveway. Everyone got out and went inside the house. Charles and Peter ran off to show Marjorie their dragons.

Jess and Becker wandered out back to the garden. There they found Claude, Aimèe and Little Paul. The younger boy looked up with delight at the red dragon Becker offered him.

"Aunt Jess! Hilary!" squealed a high pitched voice. Becker turned to look in the direction of the sound. Racing towards them was a little girl, brown braids flying in the air behind her. Becker grinned. If Phoebe was here, so was the rest of her family.

The little girl was hugging Jess excitedly and then demanding a hug from Becker too.

"Where's your Mum Phoebe?" asked Becker.

"She has to get Ruthie out of the car seat," explained the five year old. "But I was able to get down all by myself."

Becker chuckled at the sound of pride in the girl's voice. Jess's second oldest sister Alexandra could now be seen walking slowly towards them, holding the hand of a toddler.

"Hi 'Xandra," greeted Becker "I thought you weren't getting here until Friday."

"We made it early Hil," the woman replied with a conspiratorial grin "couldn't let you have all the fun without us."

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_


	15. Full House

**Disclaimer: Primeval does not belong to me, this is fan fiction, not for profit.**

**Any references to people, places, businesses etc is entirely fictitious.**

**A/N: A collaboration with Mijo54. **

8.7- Full House

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

The arrival of four more people tested even Grand-Mère's abilities as hostess.

The big L shaped house had people in every bedroom. Sophie, Jess, Genevieve, and Kate were in the room in the far right front of the house. Claude, Aimèe and Paul were in the next bedroom, while Grand-Mère and Grand-Père's room guarding the stairs was in the center front.

Claude's parents, Veronique and Gaston, had been helping with wedding preparations and running errands for Grand-Mère. They had the next bedroom to the left of the stairs. Becker hadn't seen much of Geneviève's parents, Edouard and Monique except for Tuesday morning, but he knew that they were in the corner bedroom. Jess had told him that room had internet access. Edouard spent much of his time in the room with his computer, while Monique seemed to always be on her cell phone.

Marjorie and her husband Sam along with their sons Charles and Peter were in the first bedroom in the narrower back portion of the home. The middle bedroom was the one that Alexandra and her family would be using. The last room down that hallway was the one Becker, Hank and Benoit shared.

Becker could hear Grand-Mère talking with Jess and her two sisters. Grand-Mère had picked up Ruthie and was balancing the child on her hip. She was obviously happy to have so many of her family home.

"It's a good thing Aunt Zoe and Uncle Charles stayed in Australia," said Marjorie. "There's no place to put anyone else."

"Well, Evie is going to room with the rest of us single ladies," responded Jess "and if anyone else comes, there's always the loft… above Grand-Père's studio."

Alexandra chuckled. "It might be better to get a room at the hotel," she said. "I wouldn't want to disturb Grand-Père… you know how he is about his art supplies."

"From what Louise said, I think the hotel might be full," replied Jess "Marc's family has been arriving in town too."

Becker came up behind Jess. He put his hands on her waist and whispered into her ear.

"Oh yes," exclaimed Jess "You're right, we will need to get another of the folding tables and chairs out for dinner."

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

The three boys and Phoebe had a small table all to themselves. The boys had brought their dragons to the dinner table and Phoebe had brought her favorite doll.

"She's a fairy princess," the child explained when her mother asked her why she had the doll at the table. "She takes care of the dragons."

"The toys need to be put away," reminded Alexandra with a smile. Phoebe and Paul were quick to oblige, but Charles and Peter were a bit more reluctant to put down their dragons.

Becker was seated between Jess and Alexandra at the main table under the awning. When Jess's older sister returned to her seat at the long table, Ruthie left Grand-Mère's lap to return to her mother.

"Xandra, I'm sorry," apologized Becker "I should have got dragons for Phoebe and Ruth too."

"Nonsense," replied the woman "you have nothing to apologize for Hil."

Hank was watching them from across the table. He was listening to their exchange with a puzzled expression.

"Hilary," the big man said with a grin "my cousin usually insists being called by her full name. How did you get the privilege of calling her by the nickname 'Xandra?"

Beside Hank, Alexandra's husband started to laugh.

"Hank, you would have loved it," said William. "Alexandra and I were signed up to participate in a charity fundraiser last year. The company sent me out of the country at the last minute. Jess coerced Hilary into taking my place in the event."

"They did really well," said Jess "they won the race."

"What kind of race?" asked Hank.

"Bathtub derby," replied Becker shortly.

"Two people and a bathtub on wheels," explained Jess. "They had to wear Victorian costumes, Alexandra rode in the tub while Hil pushed."

If anything, Hank looked more confused.

"The race sounds fun and all," he said "but what did that have to do with nicknames?"

Jess was laughing now too.

"All the money raised from the race went to the cancer hospital in London, but there were token prizes for participants," said Jess. "The first place prizes were hats. When the judges announced the winners and presented the awards, they got confused over the names. They announced a man's derby hat went to Mr. Alexander Jamison and a lovely plum colored velvet and feather hat went to Miss Hillary Becker."

"I didn't get to see it," continued William "but one of their friends filmed the whole thing… put it on YouTube… they switched hats… and tried to explain their names to the judge… it was hilarious."

Becker frowned. He still needed to get Connor back for posting that footage on YouTube.

"When we were children, every time we moved and I started a new school," sighed Alexandra "some teacher would be looking to introduce a boy named Alexander to the students."

"I used to get teased," said Becker "about having a girl's name."

"So now the two of them use nicknames, Hil and 'Xander when they talk to each other," said Jess with a smile.

"Do you think we could find the race on YouTube?" asked Hank.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Dinner conversation was interrupted later by Monique's cell phone. The woman answered it at the table, listened intently, and then her whole face lit up with joy.

She looked up at everyone and announced excitedly "Nathalie Geneviève est née. Mère et fille sont à la fois très bien." A clamor of congratulations filled the air.

"What's going on?" asked Becker.

"Geneviève's brother and his wife couldn't be here," reminded Jess "they were expecting next month and Robert's wife was not supposed to fly."

"Next month?"

"Anita started having contractions…," explained Jess "she went into labor early."

Well that explained Monique's distracted air and constant cell phone usage thought Becker. He looked around the table. Everybody was talking excitedly about the good news. Grand-Mère, who was sitting just beyond Alexandra, was even smiling in Becker's general direction.

At the other end of the table, Grand-Père called for a toast. "To the next generation!"

Grand-Mère said something to Becker.

"She wants to know, how many brothers and sisters you have?" translated Alexandra.

"Uh… just the one sister," replied Becker. "Gwendolyn's ten years older than me."

Grand-Mère spoke again. "J'aime les grandes familles."

For that statement, Becker didn't really need a translation, but Alexandra provided it anyway.

"Grand-Mère said she likes big families."

The older woman was looking at him now with her eyes narrowed. She was frowning at him again, Becker was sure of it. And he could almost hear the word "voyou."

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_


	16. Thursday

**Disclaimer: Primeval does not belong to me, this is fan fiction, not for profit.**

**Any references to people, places, businesses etc is entirely fictitious.**

**A/N: A collaboration with Mijo54. **

8.7- Thursday

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Thursday flew by.

Becker went back to Nice with Jess, Sophie, Geneviève and Kate. This time, Hank joined them. While the ladies went back to the bridal shop, Becker and Hank went to the men's wear store to pick up Becker's suit. The elegant suit was a soft gray color, with a two button jacket and a gray brocade vest with a subtle dark green leaf design woven into the fabric. The suit was on the hanger with the accompanying dark purple dress shirt when they walked into the store.

"Ooh hoo," teased Hank "so my cousin Jess has got you out of your basic black attire. You've got it bad!"

Becker gave the big man a quick glance out of the corner of his eye while he handed the shopkeeper his credit card. "What do you mean?"

"Letting her dress you up," Hank continued with a laugh "like Phoebe dresses her dolls."

Becker frowned. "It's not like that," he said.

"Oh puh-lease, you always wear black clothes," replied Hank "would you ever really pick those color clothes to wear on your own?"

"I wear colored clothes," said Becker indignantly as he leaned over the counter and signed the credit card slip.

"Like what," demanded Hank.

"I've got a red shirt," replied Becker.

"Oh… and let's not forget a plum colored hat," said Hank with a smirk. "I found the YouTube footage last night."

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Becker was carrying the suit over his shoulder when the two men left the shop.

"Hey Hilary," said Hank looking at his watch "you know the ladies aren't going to be ready yet. Do you mind if we a take run by another shop before we take your suit back to the car?"

"No," replied Becker. Pointing in the direction he and Jess had walked on Monday, he continued "the Pedestrian Zone is that way… it's got lots of shops. Would that do?"

Hank looked at Becker oddly. "You've only been here once," the big man said. At Becker's nod, he asked incredulously, "You remember directions that well?"

"Yeah," replied Becker. At the man's stare, he explained "knowing the terrain… being aware of your surroundings… its part of the military training."

Hank looked at Becker with respect. "You must be very good at your job."

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

In the jewelry store, Hank kept up a constant stream of small talk.

"My lovely lady, Gillian," he said "told me to enjoy my visit to France, but to hurry back home to Australia where I belong."

"You've got a girlfriend?" exclaimed Becker in surprise. "Why didn't she come with you to the wedding?"

"Travelling from Australia is expensive mate," responded Hank "and she's a nurse… can't always get off work for long."

"How long have you two been dating?" asked Becker.

"We've been together for four years now," said Hank. "We moved in together last year. How long have you and Jess been together?"

"Well, we work together," answered Becker hesitantly. He wondered how much Jess had told her cousin. "That's where we met… and then we used to visit outside of work with mutual friends… but it wasn't until their wedding that we actually… I mean… well… she was maid of honor and I was the best man… and we danced…"

I'm babbling again realized Becker.

Hank grinned.

"Weddings are good for things like that," he said. "I want to bring Gillian something really special, something she won't be able to refuse."

Pointing at a pretty ring under the glass casing, Hank asked the shopkeeper "What size is that ring?"

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

The street vendors and musicians were crowding the Pedestrian Zone as Becker and Hank made their way back to the bridal shop. As they passed one toy filled storefront window, Becker spied something.

"Hank," he said "wait up a minute. I want to pick up something too."

A few moments later the two men were back on their way. They soon bundled all the dresses, the suit and everybody into the car and headed back to Grand-Mère's home.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Evie, the sister closest to Jess in age, had arrived while they were out. There was laughter and hugs all around. Becker and Hank helped carry the dresses up to the ladies shared bedroom. Hank disappeared quickly afterwards.

"Where's Louise?" asked Evie. "Why isn't she here?"

Sophie answered. "Louise and Armand are staying at the hotel in the village."

It wasn't until Becker saw the shocked expression on Evie's face that he realized… all of the other family, except Sophie's parents who lived in the village and Jess's parent who hadn't arrived yet, were staying here. Grand-Mère's huge home was strained to capacity, but surely there was room for two more.

"Why?" asked Evie. "I thought Grand-Mère was okay with their arrangement."

At Becker's questioning look, Jess leaned close to whisper in his ear. "Grand-Mère put up the biggest fuss when Louise said she and Armand didn't want to have a wedding… they have a civil union… pacte civil de solidarité, or PACS."

Aimèe who had come in the room to see the dresses, said "Grand-Mère is fine with their arrangement now, my mother-in-law talked with her… she understands that times and customs change."

"Then what's wrong?" demanded Evie "Why aren't Louise and Armand here?"

Aimèe frowned. "Louise wants a child," she said "and Armand he says…" The sigh of frustration and the expression on her face told Becker exactly what Claude's wife thought of whatever Armand had said.

Marjorie and Alexandra entered the room to join the rest of the woman chatting about wedding dresses and men. Becker backed out of the room. At Jess's questioning look, he pointed to the suit he was carrying. She smiled and turned back to her cousins and sisters. Becker escaped the den of females and left to hang up his suit.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

It wasn't until nearly dinner time that evening that Becker saw little Phoebe again. He kneeled down to face her. Holding out the purchase he had made earlier, Becker asked the child "A fairy princess needs a crown, doesn't she?"

Phoebe's eyes lit up as she opened the bag. The toy tiara she took out was just the right size for her doll. Then she reached her hand in again and pulled out a glittery headband.

"What's this for," Phoebe asked in puzzlement.

"A fairy princess in training of course," chuckled Becker as he helped the child put it on her head.

Alexandra put her hand on his shoulder. He hadn't heard her come up behind him.

"You big old softie," she said with a smile "you didn't have to do that."

Becker stood up. "No, but I wanted to," he replied. Holding out a soft sparkly stretchy round hair band, he added "I thought that this might be better for Ruthie."

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

During the evening meal, Becker was sitting next to Jess near the center of the long table. Evie was on Jess's other side. Directly across from the two women sat Louise and Armand.

An outspoken and forthright woman, Evie passed the basket of bread, and said something to Louise and Armand. They were obviously startled by her words. Becker took a slice of bread from the basket Jess handed him. He then passed the basket to Claude.

Armand answered Evie's question. Whatever he said got Claude's attention. He responded sharply.

"What's going on?" Becker whispered to Jess as she handed him a platter of sautéed vegetables.

"Evie shouldn't have started this conversation at the dinner table," responded Jess. "This is private, between Louise and Armand."

At Becker's uncomprehending gaze, Jess added "Evie asked Armand why he doesn't want children."

Claude had heard Becker's question too. As Becker passed him the platter, Louise's older brother frowned. "Armand says his job is too dangerous," Claude spat out the words "I say lots of jobs are dangerous. Life is dangerous! You don't choose whether to have or not have children because of a job."

"What sort of work does Armand do?" asked Becker.

Across the table, the man switched to English to answer. "I am a policeman," Armand replied, glaring at Claude, "in the major crimes unit. It is dangerous. If something were to happen… I don't want Louise to have to raise a child by herself."

Becker spoke slowly. "The work I do is dangerous too," he told Armand "so I understand what you're saying. I'm in the military, like my father before me… my father died when I was eight years old… not in combat, not in a training accident…"

Jess reached a hand out to hold Becker's. She knew this story.

"My father was jogging," continued Becker "he had a massive heart attack… it was totally unexpected, there was no medical history, nothing… one minute he was there, the next minute he was gone."

Across the table from Claude, Aimèe gave a shocked intake of breath, but Becker didn't notice. He was still staring at Armand.

"My older sister, Gwendolyn, she's always been a bit of a mother hen to me," continued Becker. "She can be really annoying some times."

"She means well," protested Jess.

"Gwendolyn came home from uni for the funeral… she didn't go back to school that term. She insisted on staying with Mum and me," continued Becker. "Gwendolyn took me to school and brought me back home every day."

Claude spoke up. "It is good when brother's and sister's watch out for each other," he said, but whether he was speaking to Becker or to Louise wasn't really clear.

Becker rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well back then I really thought she was overreacting," said Becker "but now that I'm older, I think she was watching Mum as well as me."

"What do you mean?" asked Armand.

"Gwendolyn and I came home one afternoon," explained Becker "we heard Mum talking to one of her friends… Mum said she didn't think she could have gone on after Dad died if it hadn't been for the two of us… just being there."

Across the table, Armand took Louise's hand in his.

"I had not thought of it quite like that," he said simply.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

From behind him, Becker felt a strong hand clasp his shoulder. He looked up to see the face of Grand-Mère. The woman spoke to him. Becker caught the words Mère and Gwendolyn, but not much else.

Becker looked at Jess in confusion.

"She asked how your mother and Gwendolyn are doing," translated Jess.

"I thought Grand-Mère didn't understand English?"

"She doesn't speak English," replied Jess "but she generally understands what she hears."

Becker turned to face Jess's grandmother.

"My mother lives in Surrey," said Becker, "near where Gwendolyn and her family live."

There was another question from the older woman. Jess said "Grand-Mère wants to know about Gwendolyn's family.

Becker grinned. That he could do without speaking French. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. Opening it to the section where he kept his pictures, the smiling face of Jessica looked up at him. He quickly flipped past other pictures of Jess to one of Gwendolyn and her family.

Pointing at each little face in turn, Becker proudly identified his nieces. "This is Meg, she's eight and always drawing… Nan is next… she's five and loves animals… the littlest one is Larry… she's talking lots now."

"Larry is a girl?" questioned Evie. She was trying to peer over Jess and see the pictures.

"Yeah," replied Becker.

"It's a nickname," said Jess with a chuckle "she's named after Hil. Her full name is Hillary Anne Stephenson."

Evie grinned. Then she reached a hand out and turned the photos back to one of Jess.

"Ooh…" she asked with a smirk "when was this taken?"

"Last summer, in Brighton," replied Jess blushing.

Grand-Mère said something to Jess.

"It's a bikini," Jess explained "we were going swimming."

Claude was now peering at the photos Becker held in his hand.

"Well Jessica," he said "if they had a contest for tiny bathing suits, you would be sure to win." The group erupted in laughter as Jess blushed even redder.

Sometime during the conversation, Grand-Mère had released Becker's shoulder and returned to her seat at the end of the table. Becker glanced at the woman. She seemed to be trying to hold back her own laughter.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_


	17. Voyou

**Disclaimer: Primeval does not belong to me, this is fan fiction, not for profit.**

**Any references to people, places, businesses etc is entirely fictitious.**

**A/N: A collaboration with Mijo54. **

8.7- Voyou

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Friday morning Becker woke to the chirping and trilling of birdsong again, but this time he wasn't the first one up. Benoit was pulling on his boots, tying the laces as Becker sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes.

"Where are you going?" he asked Benoit.

"The train station in Aix-en-Provence," the young man replied happily "my girlfriend and the rest of our band are arriving today. Louise and I brought the instruments in the van with us when we came earlier this week. We should all be back sometime this afternoon."

"What?" asked Becker "You're a musician?"

"But of course," replied Benoit "our music is our gift to Sophie and Marc for their wedding."

"What kind of music do you perform?" asked Becker curiously.

"All kinds," said the young man as his hand reached for the doorknob. Nodding in the direction of the open window, he added "We can even play Alouette if you like."

As the young man hurried down the hallway, Becker shook his head in surprise.

"He plays three or four instruments," said Hank sleepily from his bed on the other side of the narrow room "and sings too."

Benoit had hardly said a word since he arrived. The only sounds Becker had heard from the young man were the decidedly unmelodic snoring and the occasional snort.

"I wouldn't get up too early if I were you," advised Hank as he yawned and rolled over on his side. "Grand-Mère will put you to work."

Becker decided that the chance of a hot shower was worth the risk.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

The kitchen was already bustling when Becker made it down. He grabbed a cup of coffee and took a bite of a croissant. Grand-Mère entered the kitchen then from the garden, followed by a man that Becker didn't recognize and Claude. While Grand-Mère and the man continued on through the kitchen, Claude stopped.

"Would you give me a hand please?" asked Claude.

"Sure," replied Becker. He followed Claude back out through the garden, to the flat area between the meadow and the lavender beds where they had stacked the chairs and tables earlier in the week. Two men from the catering company were lining up poles.

"For setting up the awnings," explained Claude "it is better to have men on every corner when we raise the tent."

Becker glanced at the heavy ropes and tie down stakes. "Pretty heavy duty rope," he commented. "That looks more like the stuff you would use to tie off an anchor."

Claude glanced at him and grinned. "The weather is beautiful, right now," he said "but this is Provence… the winds… the mistral… can change quickly. It is better to be prepared."

Privately Becker thought the mistral wouldn't dare interfere with Grand-Mère's plans.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

After the additional tables and chairs the caterer had brought were set up in the shade beneath the awnings Becker and Claude returned to the house. If anything there was more chaos than when they had left earlier.

Marjorie, Alexandra and Aimèe had settled Charles, Peter, Phoebe, Little Paul and Ruthie around the table in the garden. The children were eating breakfast and talking excitedly. Becker heard something about the river and dragons as he passed them.

Jess was in the kitchen. She was slicing zucchini, while Evie was slicing peppers. A bowl of sliced tomatoes was on the counter between them. Becker reached to grab a slice of tomato and Jess swatted his hand away.

"That's for the salad at lunch," she teased "no touching."

"You're starting that now?" he asked.

"Yes," Jess replied "The caterer's will be doing everything tomorrow, but today it's up to us."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

She smirked. In another minute, Becker was peeling potatoes again.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Margaux and George Parker's sleek blue Bentley pulled into the driveway just before noon. Sophie's parents, Marianne and Simon, followed them in their own car. It was the first time Becker had seen Margaux and Marianne at the same time. Although the sisters definitely favored each other, he realized they were not identical twins.

Becker hung back a little, not wanting to interfere with the family welcome. It had been a while since he and Jess had seen Margaux and George, and perhaps even longer for the others. Jess's parents travelled often and were only infrequently in England.

Marjorie and Sam greeted them first. Marjorie was pulling Charles and Peter forward by their wrists. The boys had somehow gotten very muddy since Becker had seen them at the breakfast table earlier. Becker could hear George's amazed comments about how much the boys had grown. Margaux was laughing at the boy's explanation of playing at the river.

"Dragons?" she asked. "Really?"

Alexandra and William brought their daughters Phoebe and Ruth up for hugs and kisses. Ruthie had to demonstrate her walking ability for her grandparents. Phoebe tugged on Margaux's short skirt. Jess's mother leaned down to listen to her oldest granddaughter.

"Yes," Margaux agreed with Phoebe "the sparkly headbands are beautiful. You both can be a fairy princess."

Then Evie and Jess were hugging their parents.

Margaux held Evie at arms length and smiled. "It's so good to see you," she said. Looking around, she asked "where's Sharon?"

"Sharon couldn't make it," Evie replied.

Becker saw the concern in Margaux's eyes. "Why?"

"We both couldn't come at the same time," answered Evie. "Someone's got to stay at the dig."

Becker knew that Evie and her flat mate Sharon were archeologists. They were currently working at what they hoped was a Celtic site from the early iron age in Brittany. The dig had the potential to rival the Halstatt grave finds in Austria. Joint funding from the British Museum and the Louvre had made it possible to finance the dig. Since Evie and Sharon had taken up temporary residence in Brittany, Becker and Jess didn't get to see the pair as often as when they were in London.

Margaux was hugging Jess finally. "Now where's that handsome boyfriend of yours?" she asked with a smile.

Jess nodded in Becker's direction. Two quick steps and Margaux was dragging Becker into a warm embrace.

"Hilary it's wonderful to see you again," she said. Then leaning closer, she whispered in his ear "I hope my family is not driving you crazy!"

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Much later that evening after dinner everyone was helping to bring in the dishes. Charles was trying to help by carrying one of Grand-Mère's large platters. The dish was empty, but still too heavy for the eight year old to be carrying. It slipped from his fingers, crashing to the stone steps in front of the kitchen door, shattering to pieces. Poor Charles, his eyes opened wide.

Marjorie started to say something, her voice sharp as she called her son's name, but Grand-Mère cut her off.

"Non," said Grand-Mère. The older woman took down a small dustpan and hand broom and walked out the kitchen door, over to her great-grandson. She said something to him that Becker couldn't hear. Then she ruffled the boys hair with her hand and turned away as Charles grinned and started sweeping up the mess.

This time, Becker was sure he heard what Grand-Mère said. He knew the word "voyou."

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_


	18. The Dragon Lady

**Disclaimer: Primeval does not belong to me, this is fan fiction, not for profit.**

**Any references to people, places, businesses etc is entirely fictitious.**

**A/N: A collaboration with Mijo54. **

8.7- The Dragon Lady

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

"Hil," called a voice. Jess was in the hallway.

Becker's eyes lit up as he stepped towards her. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her close.

"Jess," he started "your grandmother just called Charles a voyou…"

"We haven't had a moment alone all day," reminded Jess "Now, do you want to talk?" Or kiss me?"

"You smell like garlic," he teased.

"Well," Jess pouted "if you don't want a kiss…"

"I didn't say that," Becker replied quickly as he brought his lips down to meet hers.

When they parted for air, he grinned and said, "You taste like garlic too."

"Good thing you like garlic," Jess replied as she claimed his lips again.

They might have stayed that way for quite a bit longer if the sound of footsteps hadn't alerted them to the arrival of Jess's father.

George Parker grinned. From the twinkle in his eye, Becker was sure the red haired man had seen them kissing.

"Jess," he directed his youngest daughter "your mother is in the garden. Best hurry out and say goodnight."

George and Margaux were staying with Sophie's parents in the village. They would be leaving shortly, along with Marc and his parents.

"Your Aunt Marianne might need some help separating Sophie and Marc," teased her father as Jess reluctantly released Becker's hand and headed back towards the garden. Becker sighed as she disappeared out the back door.

Chuckling, Jess's father pointed at the ornate door at the far end of the hallway.

"Would you care to join me for a nightcap?" asked the man.

Becker swallowed. "Sure," he replied.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Becker hadn't been in Grand-Père's study before. The door had always been closed when he passed by it. The room was crowded. Jess's uncles, Edouard, Gaston and Simon were already in the room. Behind them Claude and Hank were leaning against a huge stone fireplace. Grand-Père was standing at a polished walnut desk, pouring what looked to be cognac into small glasses.

Jess's father clapped Becker on the shoulder and guided him further into the room. Grand-Père handed him one of the glasses. Becker took a swallow, and tried not to choke when Hank called from across the room.

"Is Grand-Mère still calling you a voyou?" the big man asked in a teasing voice.

Becker coughed to clear his throat.

"Are you all right Hilary?" asked Jess's father.

"Just went down the wrong way," he replied.

"Don't worry," said Jess's father kindly "Grand-Mère doesn't mean anything by calling you a voyou."

"It wasn't me this time" replied Becker. "She called Charles a voyou. What does the word mean?"

"Oh anything from a scamp or scalawag to a ruffian or a rogue," answered George.

"It means something different," said Simon "depending upon how it's used."

"Or when," added Edouard. "Maman hasn't called me a voyou since I got my first job."

George laughed out loud. "She hasn't called me a voyou since Alexandra was born."

"She still calls me a voyou," sighed Simon glumly.

"Grand-Mère has never called me a voyou," said Claude "not that I remember."

"Perfect number one grandson," teased Hank "me, on the other hand… if it wasn't for Hilary, I'd be the one getting called a voyou."

The men all burst into laughter. The talk moved on to various family stories, escapades that had sorely tried Grand-Mère's patience over the years.

From the hallway, Margaux could be heard calling her husband. Then Marianne was calling for Simon. The men moved towards the door. It was late, time to go. Tomorrow was going to be a big day.

Becker turned to go out of the study, and for the first time saw the large painting on the wall behind him. He gazed in surprise. The beautiful young woman in the green dress was obviously Grand-Mère. Becker recognized the younger version of the woman from the other painting. In this painting, she was standing in the right foreground of the picture, holding a sword almost as long as she was tall. From the center of the canvas, a creature was approaching her. And behind the creature, in the misty forest scene, the sparkling fog… it couldn't be, thought Becker… but the way the light splintered in between the leaves… it almost looked like an anomaly.

He stepped closer. Grand-Père was standing to the side of the desk, in front of the painting, blocking Becker's view of the left side. Becker craned his head.

"You like?" questioned Grand-Père.

"The forest… the light… I think I've seen something like it before," replied Becker "where did you see this?"

Grand-Père smiled. "The forest is near where my wife is from," he replied "you probably went by there on Wednesday."

"What?"

"My wife is from Draguignan," answered Grand-Père. "You may have heard the legend of Saint Hermentaire who saved the city from the dragon."

Becker nodded.

"The painting… I started it shortly after we first met," continued Grand-Père "it is loosely based on the legend, but with my wife slaying the dragon."

Becker nodded again. He was now close enough to see the entire painting. The sword wielding woman was dressed in a long flowing green fabric which swirled up and around as if caught in the wind Becker had heard so much about. She was standing protectively over a fallen body, while another figure kneeled, crouching in apparent fear on the ground behind her. The cowering figure might have been another woman, but the body was definitely that of a man. He was dressed in dark brown robes and chain mail. Perhaps he was meant to be the original owner of the weapon. The standing woman's gaze was fierce and determined. On the far left side of the canvas, two indistinct figures huddled together beside what might have been the Dolmen. The center of the painting was dominated by the image of the approaching creature.

There was no doubt in Becker's mind that the woman would succeed in slaying the creature she faced. He just wondered, what was a velociraptor doing in a painting that was meant to depict a fifth century French legend?

"Perhaps, you heard the caterer… he calls my wife the dragon lady," said Grand-Père, his eyes twinkling. "Myself, I've always thought of her as a fairy princess."

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

"I think," said Becker "we should ask your grandparents…"

"You're being ridiculous," said Jess as she looked at the painting.

"You told me there is no record of her birth," replied Becker. "It all fits."

"There's no record of Grand-Mère's birth because she was born over eighty years ago," responded Jess in an exasperated tone "do you have any idea how many floods there have been since then?"

Becker pointed at the painting. "How do you explain the raptor?" he asked.

"Creative license," said Jess firmly. She stared at Becker wide eyed, her chest rising and falling with her rapid breathing.

"You've got to admit," said Becker pointing at the glowing light in the forest scene, "it looks like an anomaly."

"My grandmother." stated Jess even more firmly, "did not come through an anomaly from the fifth century."

"Grand-Père told me that Grand-Mère's mother used to call him a voyou," said Becker "but you told me your grandmother had no family as witnesses when they married."

"There could be lots of reasons for that," replied Jess. "Remember… war, flood… they could even have had an argument or something before the wedding sixty some odd years ago."

Jess shrugged her shoulders. "Now, if you'll excuse me…," she huffed "I'm going to bed."

Becker watched Jess march out of the room. Her words rang in his ears.

"Jess, wait."

He caught up with her in the hallway.

"I'm sorry," he said contritely, "you're right… I am being ridiculous."

Really, thought Becker as he leaned in to kiss Jess, did it make any difference if Jess's grandmother had come through an anomaly from the fifth century or not?

What was important, was right here, right now, the woman he was holding in his arms.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_


	19. Sophie's Wedding

**Disclaimer: Primeval does not belong to me, this is fan fiction, not for profit.**

**Any references to people, places, businesses etc is entirely fictitious.**

**A/N: A collaboration with Mijo54. Note: any errors in French customs and usage are strictly my own.**

8.7- Sophie's Wedding

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

The morning had passed quickly. Shortly after the midday meal, everyone went to their rooms to get dressed.

Becker made short work of getting into his gray suit. The dark purple shirt wasn't so bad, he told himself. If he stood in the shadows, it almost looked black. Becker wished that he had thought to get a tie. He wanted to look good for Jessica, wanted her to be proud to stand beside him.

Leaving Hank and Benoit to continue dressing, Becker went downstairs to wait in the garden. Charles and Peter were already there.

"Where are your parents?" asked Becker in surprise.

"Mum's helping Dad with his tie," answered Charles. He then turned back to his brother. The two boys were playing some sort of game with the dragon toys, soaring the creatures over the table, around chairs and underneath again.

Becker shook his head, and started to say something when he heard a soft voice.

"Hil," called Jess. He turned in the direction of her voice. One dark green shoe with purple heels stepped out of the kitchen doorway onto the stone, followed quickly by another. She stood framed by the doorway. Lovely in lavender, with her dark hair brushed up on one side, twisting and curling down over her shoulder on the other side, Becker thought she made the most beautiful picture.

"Wow!" was all he could say, but maybe something of what he felt shone in his eyes, or could be heard in the tone of his voice.

Jess walked across the lawn to meet him. She circled around Becker, taking in every detail of his gray suit, the gray vest with the subtle green leaf pattern woven into the fabric and the dark purple shirt he wore. She returned to face him.

"Wow to you too," she said with a smile.

Putting her hands on his lapels, she brought his face towards her. Before their lips met, Alexandra came out the kitchen door. She was carrying Ruthie, Phoebe was following her mother, and an anxious Aimèe was behind her. Aimèe was carrying a little jacket.

"What's wrong Xandra?" asked Becker straightening up.

"Have you seen Paul?" asked Alexandra.

"Paul," called Aimèe. Her eyes searched the garden. "I thought he was with Phoebe…"

"Phoebe's been with me," explained Alexandra "we haven't seen him…"

Claude came hurrying out the door. "He's not out front," the man said worriedly. "I'll check Grand-Père's studio."

Becker watched as the man hurried off again. Becker scanned the terrain. The women were trying to get Aimèe to calm down.

"He's probably gone to see if he can get some cake," suggested Jess. "Hil, would you please go check the reception tents?"

Becker started in the direction of the tents, but as he passed the dining table, he noticed Charles had stopped playing with his dragon. The boy was staring at the anxious adults.

"Charles," asked Becker as he knelt down to look under the table "have you seen Paul?"

"He left his dragon," said the eight year old.

"What?"

"Yesterday… when we were playing," answered Charles "Paul left his dragon at the picnic place."

Peter spoke up. "Paul went to get his dragon," the six year old said solemnly. "He can't play without a dragon."

Becker stood up quickly. "Claude!" he shouted as he started towards the path.

Charles was following after him.

"What are you doing?" asked Becker.

"I want to help," said the boy.

Becker thought quickly. "I need you to stand guard, don't let anyone past the garden," he told the boy "a good soldier protects people." The boy stopped following, stood as if at attention, and nodded.

Claude met Becker where the path led into the woods.

"Paul's gone to the river."

They both took off at a run.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Claude was carrying Paul when they returned. The boy was muddy and his face streaked with tears, his chubby little hand clutching a very dirty and bedraggled red dragon. Becker was following slowly behind them.

The rest of the family had come into the garden. Grand-Mère had convinced Aimèe to sit down with her feet propped up. Marjorie was holding a compress to the pregnant woman's forehead. Alexandra was waving a fan over Aimèe.

Jess was the first to see them. "Aimèe," she said in relief "Claude's got Paul! He's fine."

"Hilary looks somewhat the worse for wear," said Marjorie critically.

As Claude hurriedly brought Paul to his mother, Jess started to run towards Becker.

"Aunt Jess," ordered Charles "stop!"

"What?" asked Jess looking at her nephew in surprise.

"I've got guard duty," said the boy proudly "need to keep you safe. No one is to go past the garden."

"Jess," said Becker tiredly "stay where you are. I'm wet and covered with mud. Don't come near me, I don't want to ruin your dress."

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Grand-Mère said no.

Little Paul's face and hands were scrubbed in a matter of minutes. His mother was putting on his jacket when Becker first suggested the family should go to the wedding without him.

"I don't have another suit," said Becker.

In spite of his protests, Grand-Mère said there was no way that the family was going to the wedding without Becker. They would wait for him to get cleaned up and changed.

"Grand-Mère said she's got one of Grand-Père's old suits," Jess told him "she keeps everything… it should fit."

Grand-Père's old black suit might have been over twenty years old, but it did fit. However, none of the men had dress shoes in Becker's size. His feet were at least a size larger than even Hank's big feet. Becker would have to wear his black boots, the ones the salesman at the men's apparel store had said were only suitable for hunting or battle.

"I'll ruin the wedding pictures," sighed Becker.

"I don't care what you're wearing," said Jess "I just want you there with me!"

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

The family loaded up in several different cars for the short ride to the village. Parking at the municipal lot, they met Sophie and Jess's parents.

Amidst questions about the delay, they all got out of the cars and started to walk down the cobblestone street to City Hall. The family group passed first one shop and then another. People stopped what they were doing to come outside, some joined them in their walk.

Friendly calls of "Felicitations!" rang in the air.

Sophie, beaming with happiness was beautiful in that special way of a bride. She was practically skipping down the street. Jess, Genevieve and Kate were laughing and giggling, telling her to slow down a bit.

As the women turned the corner, someone turned on a CD player. Cheerful music filled the air with the refrain of Marc and Sophie.

Marc was standing on the steps outside of City Hall, his parents and best man beside him. The moment his eyes caught sight of Sophie, his whole face lit up. He strode down the stairs to meet her, taking her by the hand. He escorted her up the steps, where Sophie's parents had joined his parents.

Sophie entered City Hall on the arm of her father, Marc and his mother followed.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

The mandatory civil ceremony had been short.

The photographer had started taking pictures the moment the happy couple had come out of City Hall. Well wishers were trying to get close enough to shake hands. Family, friends and neighbors were soon walking down the streets towards the village church.

A frantic call of "Wait, please wait!" stopped the procession momentarily. An older couple, followed by a pretty red head pushed their way through the crowd.

Grand-Mère exclaimed in surprise. And then everyone was hugging Zoe and her husband. Hank looked at the red head in surprise. He scooped her up into a big bear hug, lifting the tiny woman up off the street.

"Gillian," he exclaimed, "I'm so glad you're here."

As Becker passed beneath the large arched door frame into the church, he remembered Jess had told him that the ceremony at City Hall was the only ceremony recognized by the government. The nuptial blessing at the church was optional, but both Sophie and Marc had wanted to take this extra step.

Becker hoped that the blessing wouldn't take too long, the glossy dark wooden pews were beautiful and hard. In front of him, Alexandra passed little Ruthie to her father. William was trying to quiet the child. She wanted to go stand with her sister and Aunt Jess.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

The photographer had to wait until family and friends were done throwing rice after the nuptial blessing before he could take the more formal pictures. First Sophie and Marc stood together in front of the church. Then there was a picture with Jess's Aunt Marianne and Uncle Simon, then one with Marc's parents, then one with both sets of parents.

Marc's father was funny. As soon as the photographer said the man could step down, he took off his suit coat and loosened his tie. He said something which brought a murmur of approval from the crowd of people.

"What did he say?" asked Becker.

"The wine of honor," explained Jess "will be at the home of Marc's parents. He's going to start opening champagne bottles if anyone wants to come now."

"Sounds good," said Becker. He started to turn in the direction Marc's father had gone.

"Oh no you don't," said Jess. "You're needed here for pictures."

Grand-Mère wanted pictures of all her children and their spouses, then there were pictures of each family group. When the photographer called Margaux and George to stand in front of the church, Becker tried to step back out of the way.

Both Alexandra and Evie grabbed him by a wrist, pulling him forward. Jess and Grand-Mère were whispering together.

"Oh no," said Marjorie "you're in this picture too."

Becker opened his mouth to disagree, but Grand-Mère started forward. The tiny woman walked up the steps. Pointing a finger at Becker, she tapped him on the chest.

"Tu stay," she said.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

When Jess and Becker finally reached the home of Marc's parents, it was hard to find a spot to sit. Soft music was playing in the background. Becker looked at the crowd. The line of well wishers waiting to greet the newly married couple stretched across the garden and around the house.

"Are all these people coming to Grand-Mere's?" he asked incredulously. Jess was clipping a rose and a sprig of lavender from the bouquet she carried.

'No, Hil," replied Jess as she pinned the flowers to his lapel, "the wine of honor is for friends and co-workers. The wedding feast is family only."

Becker put his hand on her waist. He touched the embroidered lavender and leaves climbing the side of her dress. "Did all the flowers come from Grand-Mere's garden?"

Jess chuckled. "No, only the lavender," she answered "the florist brought the roses."

"Sophie must really like lavender," said Becker.

"For some people, lavender represents devotion," said Jess "but for me, lavender always makes me think of home."

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Claude and Aimèe were getting ready to leave the wine of honor early. Little Paul was tired.

"Jess, do you want to ride back to Grand-Mere's with them now?" asked Becker. "Or catch a ride with your parents later?"

Jess squeezed his hand. "Now," she said "I've still got to finish packing."

"We are leaving for Paris tomorrow morning very early," said Claude sternly. "Make sure you are ready."

"How early?"

"Four in the morning," replied Claude.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

The wedding feast was wonderful. There were so many different and wonderful foods, that Becker couldn't begin to name them all.

Benoit and his band started playing live music shortly after dinner. Sophie and Marc had their first dance, then other couples joined in. Becker and Jess joined too. Jess put her hands on his shoulders, leaning in close and resting her head on his chest.

"You're still wearing the heels?"

"It's not every day I get to wear purple and green," replied Jess "I want to keep them on as long as I can."

Becker and Jess were swaying softly together, when George tapped him on the shoulder.

"May I cut in?" asked Jess's father.

As Becker watched Jess dance with her father, he noticed the other couples slowly moving to the music. Grand-Mère and Grand-Père were holding hands, pressed up against each other. Grand-Mère was resting her head on her husband's chest, eyes closed, a soft smile on her face.

When Benoit and his band stopped their first set, it was finally time to cut the cake. The towering cone shaped concoction of golden cream puffs, covered in caramel and sugared almonds had been enticing the stares of the children as well as some of the adults all evening.

"Mmmm," said Jess, her eyes half closed as she chewed a bite "this is so good."

"Better than chocolate?" teased Becker.

Her eyes snapped open. "There's nothing better than chocolate, except you."

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

After the cake was served and eaten, the children and some of the adults went to bed. Claude looked at Becker and tapped on his watch before he and his family left the party.

"We should probably go too," said Becker.

"No," protested Jess "I want to dance some more."

Benoit and his band started playing a wider variety of music. Everyone was dancing. Becker and Jess spun past Hank and Gillian. The big man grinned at Becker. Hank pointed to the sparkling ring on Gillian's hand.

"It looks like their will be another wedding in your family soon," Becker told Jess.

Four in the morning, they were still dancing. This time it was Claude who tapped on Becker's shoulder.

"If you want to go back to Paris," he said "the two of you need to come with us now."

Jess and Becker quickly made their goodbyes and followed her cousin, grabbing their luggage from the front hallway. Aimèe had already buckled Paul into his safety seat. A blue blanket was tucked around him. He was still clutching the red dragon when Jess and Becker climbed into the minivan with him.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

The ride back to Paris was long. Everyone in the back seat slept for the first part of the drive. They stopped for lunch somewhere near Lyon. Becker and Jess were seated on either side of little Paul. After lunch, they entertained the child while his parents continued driving.

When they stopped for gas the last time before they entered Paris, Aimèe got Paul a juicy drink. It was in a cup with a lid, so he could take it in the car.

It was as they were entering the city of love, that Paul decided to take the lid off his cup. A bump in the road, and then cold purple liquid was on Becker's head, sliding down his neck and back.

"Augh!"

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_


	20. Right Here, Right Now

**Disclaimer: Primeval does not belong to me, this is fan fiction, not for profit.**

**Any references to people, places, businesses etc is entirely fictitious.**

**A/N: A collaboration with Mijo54. **

8.7- Right Here, Right Now

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Jess stood next to a very sticky Becker in front of the hotel entrance. Claude, Aimèe and Little Paul waved goodbye as Claude carefully pulled the Renault away from the curb. The bellhop came with a cart for Jess's multicolored luggage and Becker's black duffle bag.

The concierge didn't bat an eye at Becker's appearance. The man held the door open with a flourish. "This way Monsieur, Mesdames."

Jess's dark green shoes with the high purple heels sank into the depths of the plush carpet as she entered the hotel lobby. She stumbled, reaching out her hand to grab Becker's arm. He steadied her for a moment.

"Are you all right?" he asked, concern evident in his hazel eyes.

"I'm fine," Jess replied, as she tilted her head up to gaze at the brilliant chandelier. "The carpet is just a bit much."

"We can get another hotel," said Becker as they continued on to the front desk. He suddenly wondered if his plans were totally rubbish. "I was told this hotel was a good one, but if you don't like it…"

The clerk behind the counter looked shocked, but whether it was due to Becker's words or Becker's appearance was anyone's guess.

"Don't be ridiculous," said Jess. "Of course I like it! This is one of the best hotels in Paris."

The clerk smiled officiously and pushed a registry book forward. Becker took up the pen and leaned forward.

"I thought we ought to stay some place special for our first trip to Paris," Becker said as he began to fill out the form. A drop of purple liquid rolled down the side of his jaw and dripped on to the paper.

"I like the way you said that," Jess smirked, distracting his attention from the blot on the hotel registry.

"What do you mean?"

"Like we'll be coming back to Paris," she replied.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Somehow the bellhop made it to their room before they did. The young man opened the door to their room with a sweep of his hand that was reminiscent of the concierge's gesture.

Jess and Becker entered the room. Their luggage was already set neatly in the closet area. As Jess stepped further into the room, Becker hurriedly tipped the bellhop and turned him around, almost pushing the young man out the door. Alone at last.

The glossy dark desk was strewn with an assortment of papers. Jess had stopped here, picking up two of the brightly colored papers.

"You've got brochures for all the attractions in Paris here," she marveled "the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower… oh!"

Jess turned to face Becker. "Reservations for a dinner boat ride on the Seine!" she exclaimed "I've always wanted to do that."

Becker grinned. He stepped closer, reaching towards Jess hoping to pull her into his embrace.

Her nose wrinkled up. "You smell," Jess reminded him "Paul's juice."

"Yeah," he sniffed "and it's sticky too."

"To the shower with you!" Jess exclaimed with a laugh.

"Join me?" Becker asked.

"As soon as I find the body wash," was her reply.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

After going through every one of her suitcases, Jess found the body wash in Becker's black duffle next to where she had kicked off her heels.

The sound of running water could be heard coming from the bathroom. Jess entered the bathroom barefoot. An open container of shampoo, one of the hotel's complimentary samples, lay on the counter in front of the steam fogged mirror. The glass shower stall was fogged over too. Jess set the body wash on the counter and stepped closer to the shower stall. She quietly opened the shower door a few inches.

Becker had already started washing his juice covered hair. He was now rinsing the suds out. Hot water streamed across his upturned face. His eyes were closed and he seemed oblivious to her presence. Jess watched as bubbles slid down the nape of his neck, cascading down his back, cresting over the curve of his buttocks. One especially large bubble lingered over his tattoo.

Jess couldn't resist. She reached out one pointed finger and popped the bubble.

Becker turned quickly, startled. He grinned at seeing Jess. Her lips were parted open, her tongue ran across her lips. Becker opened the door wider and pulled her into the shower with him. She giggled and squealed with delight.

"This dress is dry clean only."

"Then we'll have to get you out of it," replied Becker.

"Promises, promises," teased Jess. The water was spattering her face. She turned her back to him. "The zipper please Hil."

He readily obliged, and then readily helped her out of her other garments. She turned to face him, lips parted again, eagerly awaiting his kiss.

"Jessica," said Becker as he pulled her into the warmth of his embrace. "I've been trying to learn some French words."

"Hil," said Jess breathlessly "now's not the time for language lessons."

"Jessica," he said "Je t'aime."

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_


End file.
